


Shinigami's Reward

by The_Audacity



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29594763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Audacity/pseuds/The_Audacity
Summary: Ichigo should really be more careful what he wishes for.
Relationships: Ishida Uryuu & Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

It was all Ishida’s fault, he’d swear to it.

The Hollow was small potatoes. The smallest, actually. Ichigo doubted he would have had trouble with it even at fifteen, much less twenty. It should have been over in a blink. A quick slice and one of his swords could’ve cleaved the screeching Hollow in two, but that’s not how it happened.

A narrow beam of light went streaking past his shoulder, crackling like electricity as it soared through the air. Ichigo felt the arrow before he saw it. He recognized the feeling, that particular chill of ice blue anywhere, and reacted without thinking to slice it out of the sky. Whirling to pinpoint its source, he scowled in the Quincy’s general direction of a rooftop across the street. This was the third time in a row Ishida had shown up to steal his kill!

“God damn it, Ishida!” he yelled at the man from where he was hovering mid-air. “I’ve got this, all right? Go away!”

Ichigo blinked and the object of his ire was suddenly right in front of him, blocking an attack from the briefly forgotten Hollow. He scoffed and mocked, “The only thing you’ve got, Kurosaki, is an anger management issue.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

Rather than take the bait to keep their argument going, Ishida ignored him and aimed his bow before firing the lethal shot. Ichigo grumbled under his breath as the Hollow disintegrated with a grating wail.

“Hurry up and get back in your body,” instructed Ishida with a nod toward the alley where it had been left. “You’re leaking reiatsu all over the place.”

“Would you shut up about my reiatsu? Who gives a shit if it’s leaking out? It’s always leaking!” The Quincy tapped his glasses into line and pointed at a family of three passed out on the sidewalk below. “Oh, fuck, I didn’t see them.”

“Obviously,” he said in that superior tone he knew enraged Ichigo, “or you wouldn’t be jeopardizing their souls by exposing them to the caustic radiation of yours.” Gearing up to chew him out, he took a breath to speak but Ishida held up a hand to silence him. “It’s not over. Looks like our prey had a friend.”

Ichigo followed his gaze and saw what appeared to be a more powerful Hollow in the distance. It was chasing someone, as they tended to do, but there was one key difference: the person it was after seemed to be _fighting back_.

Their spat fell by the wayside as they hurried over to investigate.

“I thought we knew everyone in Karakura with spirit powers,” Ichigo commented when short bursts of colorful light indicated this was no ordinary human.

“So did I.”

It was a woman, they discovered upon closer inspection. She was tall and slender, had very long black hair, and she was wearing a kimono with an incredibly intricate design. The flashes followed at her gestures, keeping the Hollow at bay but not quite deterring it. In spite of the challenge, she was holding her ground and keeping her composure well. Standing a ways behind her was a young man about their age, looking alarmed but not terrified. Ichigo guessed she was protecting him, and that this probably wasn’t the first time they had encountered the supernatural.

“You get them to safety,” he told Ishida, who surprisingly elected not to argue. “I’ll take care of this one.”

They split ways and Ichigo bellowed a war cry to draw the Hollow’s attention. It whipped around to focus on him as Ishida zipped in unnoticed to help the pair it had been hunting. Ichigo readied his swords and dove right in.

Unlike the other Hollow, this one was no weakling by average standards. It was still a small potato to him, though, and he felt a little disappointed when it took less than a minute to finish the Hollow off. Nothing ever challenged him anymore. What opponent could after Yhwach? Sometimes, when Ichigo got nostalgic for battles past, he even considered taking Grimmjaw up on his offer of a savage duel to settle the old score between them. This unsated urge buzzing inside him was yet another reason his patience with Ishida was at an all-time low. If that uptight Quincy swooped in and stole his kill one more time…

Ichigo returned to find him talking with the couple they had just saved.

“Shinigami-san,” the woman greeted with a placid smile, and Ichigo did a double-take. They could see him? Knew what he was? “I was just thanking your friend for the assistance.”

“Uh, no problem.” He shot Ishida a quizzical look and got a slight shrug in response. “Are you two okay?”

“We’re perfectly fine. Isn’t that right, Watanuki-kun?”

The young man stepped forward shyly to agree, “Yes.” Bowing to Ichigo and Ishida in turn, he said, “Thank you both for saving our lives.”

“We’re just glad we found you in time,” Ishida replied in that soft, polite tone he used when talking to anyone but Ichigo. “Do you mind if I ask what technique you were using to fight the Hollow?”

Unruffled and enigmatic, the woman evasively answered, “Not the right one, clearly.”

Infinitely less tactful than Ishida, he bluntly asked, “What are you? Fullbring? Vaizard? Or something else?”

“Something else,” the guy with her replied. “Yuuko-san has mystical abilities from another dimension.”

“Ah, I see…” Ichigo claimed, though he really didn’t. Ishida gave him a sideways look that screamed ‘idiot’. Ichigo poked him in the side with an elbow. “Well, if you don’t need anything from us, I’ve got lab first thing in the morning.”

“Wait, Shinigami-san. You can’t leave without collecting your reward.”

Glancing between the woman and her tag-along, Ichigo declined, “We don’t really need a reward for this sort of thing. It’s what we do.”

She moved forward so gracefully it almost seemed like she _glided_ across the asphalt. Ichigo straightened instinctively when she peered into his eyes as if searching for secrets tucked behind them.

“If you receive something, something of equal value needs to be given back. The balance of the universe demands repayment for a life spared, Shinigami-san. I sense you understand that better than most.” Unable to deny it, Ichigo cleared his throat and nodded that he did understand. “Then, what would you ask of me? Anything that is within my power to grant shall be yours.”

“Um…” He looked to Ishida for a bailout but his friend remained unhelpfully quiet and watchful. “I don’t really need anything, though.”

“Everyone needs something just beyond their reach. Watanuki-kun knows all about that.”

The boy sighed in wordless agreement and suggested, “I know all this must sound nuts, but she won’t quit until she helps you. It’s easier to go along with her, believe me.”

“Well, I guess…”

Crossing his arms impatiently, Ishida goaded, “Come on, Kurosaki, we don’t have all night.”

“Why don’t you think of something, then? You helped save them, too!”

“She’s asking _you_ , idiot.”

“Might I suggest a wish that would benefit you both equally?” They switched their attention to her, asking a silent question with their expressions until she continued, “Why not ask for love?”

“Love?” Ichigo dubiously repeated.

“I can inspire anyone to fall in love,” she offered with an eerie smile, “if the potential is already there.”

Her eyes drifted from him to Ishida and back in bold designation.

Ichigo blinked twice. Then he burst into a fit of laughter. “Are you implying you could make this guy,” he proposed with a thumb aimed at Ishida, “fall in love with me? Ha!” After a lot more laughing, he caught his breath to go on, “ _This guy_? Seriously?”

“You would have better luck convincing a lion to go for a relaxing swim in the Arctic Circle,” Ishida muttered under his breath.

That only added fuel to Ichigo’s giggle fit. He was nearly in tears by the time he rallied enough to jokingly agree, “Sure, Yuuko-san, give it a try. Make my former ‘sworn enemy’ love me and I’ll totally call us even.”

“Fuck off, Kurosaki,” he irritably snarked.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” the woman said, ignoring Ishida’s negativity. “Fated unions are extraordinarily rare, but you two make an excellent match: the Last Quincy and this world’s only Shinigami-Quincy hybrid.”

Ichigo’s incessant laughter abruptly cut out. He looked up with widened eyes, asking, “Wait, how did you—”

A puff of dense fog exploded around them, obscuring everything for several seconds. By the time it began to dissipate, Yuuko and Watanuki were nowhere in sight. Ishida coughed, waving at the cloud enshrouding him, and speared Ichigo with the sharpest glare he’d ever seen.

“You’re such an asshole,” Ishida accused before striding off into the night.

As Ichigo stared after the grouchy man, he hummed to himself and decided, “Guess it didn’t work.”

The strange midnight incident was long forgotten by the time he saw Ishida again over a week later.

They had both been preoccupied with getting through their semester finals to care about some creepy lady and her bedraggled ward. Ichigo never thought for a second that she may have actually possessed the power she claimed. At most, he figured Ishida might hate him a little less. Maybe cut back on the bitching a bit. That would have been nice.

It was decidedly _not_ nice, however, when he interrupted Ichigo in the middle of scrapping with a Hollow. Again. He’d swear that punkass was doing it on purpose!

“What the fuck, Ishida?” he cried as he watched the Hollow he’d just been about to dispatch disappear in a blue blaze instead. Ichigo landed on the ground and went stomping forth to grab the prey-swiping jerk by his shirt front. “That Hollow was mine!”

Ishida didn’t shove him off right away like usual. He looked Ichigo up and down, then sneered, “Didn’t see your name on it.”

“ _Eugh_ ,” he groaned in inarticulate frustration before releasing his hold. “Every time you do this, it’s like…” Kind of like a cock-block, he thought, but he wasn’t about to explain that and give Ishida another reason to laugh at him. “Listen, you snide bastard, I just really need you to stop barging in on my fights.”

“Or what?”

Gritting his teeth, Ichigo threatened, “Or you’re gonna take the Hollow’s place.”

That didn’t seem to have the intended effect at all. Ishida smirked and suggested, “If you’re so desperate to shove your sword at something, try me.”

“Uh,” Ichigo grunted, wondering why he suddenly felt embarrassed, “what?”

Ishida crowded into his space for a change as he clarified, “Let’s have a match, Kurosaki. Who needs a Hollow to play with when you’ve got a willing Quincy?”

“Uhh…” he repeated, stalling so his brain could catch up. “Are you saying you wanna spar, or whatever?”

“I am,” confirmed Ishida, “and when I win—”

“You mean when _I_ win.”

“Whoever wins gets to ask a favor of the other.”

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Ichigo demanded, “What sort of favor?” Ishida shrugged, but his smirk spread. Ichigo would’ve been worried about that smirk if he wasn’t so sure he’d be the victor. “You sure you wanna do this, Ishida? There’s no way you’d stand a chance against me, even if I stick to shikai.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

“Look, you might be a little faster than me but if I land one hit—”

“So concerned for my well-being,” he teased with a condescending chuckle. “How sweet. I didn’t expect that from you, Kurosaki.”

“Shut up! Who said anything about being concerned? I just don’t wanna hear you whining later when you get yourself hurt.”

“In that case, perhaps I’ll hurt you instead.”

Ichigo started to retort but Ishida vanished, only to reappear on a roof halfway down the block and send an arrow flying. Dodging it easily, Ichigo frowned even as his heartbeat sped. He didn’t understand what had gotten into Ishida, but…

He kind of liked it.

The feeling grew as they chased each other out of the city, taking half-hearted shots at each other in the process. Once they were well away from civilization, Ichigo paused in a lightly wooded area and waited for Ishida to join him.

“I know your M.O.,” Ichigo began conversationally once he was in earshot. “You love to set up traps and corner your opponents, but I won’t fall for that bait-n-switch shit.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.”

He parried three arrows at once and sent a small Getsuga Tenshou in return. It was one of his most powerful attacks, but it was slow. Much slower than Ishida’s agility with hirenkyaku. Ichigo knew he’d have to be clever if he wanted to take the Quincy down. He’d have to get in close-quarters, keep him on defense, and strike the moment there was an opening. It was the best way with long-range types like him.

With this plan in mind, he endeavored to close the distance between him and Ishida at all costs. Easier said than done, considering how wide their arena was and how many trees there were to dodge behind. Ichigo was trying to be considerate and not cause too much damage to the forest. Ishida knew it, too. _He_ didn’t have to worry about mass destruction. His attacks were all about precision rather than raw power.

“You want me to cut a crater across these damn woods, don’t you?” Ichigo griped when he couldn’t get within swinging distance of the man for minutes on end.

“Not at all. I like the river’s course just the way it is.”

Ichigo was already breathing harder but he knew his stamina would hold. It was Ishida who should’ve been worried about finishing this sooner than later. As many arrows as he was flinging around, he’d run out of reiryoku before long and there wasn’t nearly as much reishi for him to borrow on the mortal plane as there was in Hueco Mundo or Soul Society. But Ichigo didn’t want to wear him out. He wanted to overpower or outsmart Ishida. He wanted to hear the arrogant Quincy admit that he’d lost fair and square.

His indulgently vindictive train of thought was derailed as he stumbled over a trip wire.

“Oh, f—”

An explosion rang in his ears as his back hit the dirt _hard_. He groaned, raised a hand to rub the back of his throbbing head, and finally opened his eyes to find Ishida on top of him.

“I can’t believe you missed that, Kurosaki,” he casually criticized when their eyes met. “You could have lost a limb.”

Ichigo just stared up at him until his double vision gradually reverted to single. “Did you…?”

Easing off him to stand, Ishida held out a hand to pull him up as he supplied, “Save you from my own trap? Yes, I did. It’s no fun if you get yourself incapacitated this early.”

He considered that as he brushed grass from his hair and dust from his shihakusho. When had he even had time to set that trap? Ichigo knew better than to ask, though, predicting a long-winded brag about how wily Ishida could be in battle. More importantly, Ichigo was a little surprised to be rescued from said trap when it would have been an instant win for Ishida to let him take the hit. Part of him wanted to concede then and there.

The other part of Ichigo had him snatching Zangetsu from the churned earth and pinning Ishida against the trunk directly behind him with a black blade poised at his throat. Right when Ichigo was about to open his mouth and say something snarky about keeping his guard up, a blue blade jutted up between them. Its edge stopped mere millimeters from Ichigo’s heart. He traced the angle of it down to confirm that Ishida held an activated Seele Schneider, turning his sneaky victory into a stinking stalemate.

He didn’t gloat or call Ichigo out on his bullshit. Ishida just stared, waiting. And Ichigo stared back.

The vibrant azure light set Ishida’s eyes aglow behind a slight glare on his glasses. There was something about the way he was watching Ichigo, something in his eyes that he’d never seen before. Ishida looked so alert, so _invigorated_ that Ichigo had to ask, “This really is fun for you, isn’t it?”

“Isn’t it fun for you?”

Ichigo thought about it.

“Yeah,” he admitted after a few seconds. Ishida’s lips twitched into the beginnings of a smile and Ichigo’s reflexively mirrored the movement. “Definitely.”

“Good,” said Ishida as he deactivated Seele Schneider. Ichigo backed off and lowered his sword in return. “Then let’s continue.”

“You want to keep going? Aren’t you tired yet? I figured you’d be drained by now…”

“I’ll never be drained as long as I have you around to fill me back up.”

Ichigo was pretty sure that didn’t mean what he thought it meant. “What are you talking about?” The Quincy reached down to grip Zangetsu’s hilt in demonstration. “Whoa!” Ichigo cried when an invisible shockwave burst from the longbow form of Ginrei Kojaku. It didn’t look any different but it _felt_ many times more powerful.

“Your power becomes my power, if I wish to take it,” Ishida explained. “Or have you forgotten what happened when we fought that Menos together?”

Eyes on the part of his sword where their hands touched, he asked, “Okay, but…how? I thought you had to be touching Zangetsu for that to work. You’re saying you can even use my reiryoku from a distance?”

“I can convert the excess reiryoku that your soul emits in the form of reiatsu into pure reishi that I then manipulate into a secondary source of—”

“All right, damn,” Ichigo interrupted when his head started to swim. “Basically, you’re stealing my power to use as your own?”

“In layman’s terms, yes.”

“That’s so fucked up,” he said around a fiendish grin. “Can you teach me how to do it?”

Letting go of his sword and stepping back, Ishida declined, “Absolutely not. If someone with your spiritual strength had the ability to absorb it from others, too, I can’t imagine what sort of monster you would become.”

“Worse than Aizen?” joked Ichigo.

“Much worse,” he soberly agreed. “Worse than Yhwach.”

“No shit? Man…imagine if someone had both your abilities and mine. Too bad we can’t have kids and find out, huh?” He was snickering about it but stopped when he noticed Ishida didn’t seem to find it funny. “What?”

“Nothing. I’ll see you later, Kurosaki.”

“Wha—hey!” Ichigo called as his friend made to leave. “I thought you wanted to keep sparring.”

“Changed my mind.”

Walking toward him, he requested, “Ishida, wait a—”

He was already gone.

Ishida wasn’t avoiding him _per se_. He wasn’t acting any differently that Ichigo could tell, either. But something was up and he was determined to figure out what.

“Hey,” he walked over to greet Ishida as he strode out of his last class of the day. “I’m coming over to your place.”

Without slowing his steps, he gave Ichigo a sideways look and asked, “Why?”

“Because I feel like it. And ‘cause you’ve ditched me the last two times I wanted to study together.”

“You’d only distract me,” Ishida muttered under his breath.

“I thought you said you liked studying with me since I ask so many questions and re-explaining everything helps you remember it better.”

“ _Stupid_ questions, Kurosaki. I said you ask so many stupid questions that I can’t possibly forget anything.”

Rolling his eyes, he dismissed, “Well, whatever. I’m still coming over.”

Ichigo anticipated their debate would last all the way to his doorstep, but Ishida surprised him by sighing and relenting, “Fine.”

Thirty minutes later, they were camped out on the living room floor with books and notes spread all over the low coffee table between them. Ishida was already two assignments ahead of him, but he had generously lent Ichigo his notebook for a chance to let him catch up.

He was less worried about keeping pace than coming up with the least awkward phrasing possible to ask why Ishida seemed to be steadily distancing himself from Ichigo in subtle ways lately. This wasn’t something he was comfortable bringing up when he couldn’t even be sure it wasn’t all in his head. But if it wasn’t his imagination, then he needed to address it before Ishida stopped talking to him altogether.

Right when Ichigo was about to cave and blurt the first thing he could think of, Ishida’s dad walked by in the hall and nodded to them as he passed.

“Hey, can we go to your room?”

Ishida looked up at that. “Ryuuken isn’t going to bother us, Kurosaki. I hardly even notice he’s around. Why do you think I settled for living at home through undergrad?”

“Yeah, but some privacy couldn’t hurt.”

“Privacy?” he repeated with a shallow squint. “Why would we need privacy?”

A couple of random, stereotypical examples popped into Ichigo’s brain, making him flush a little. “I dunno…just ‘cause.”

After that verbal flop, he was sure Ishida would tell him to go home. But he surprised Ichigo once again by saying, “All right, if it’ll shut you up. Come on.”

They gathered their school things and took them upstairs to Ishida’s bedroom. Once they were there, Ichigo didn’t feel like working on his assignments anymore. He wanted to get this dumb discussion over with so he could quit feeling weird about it already.

Ishida saw him loitering there with a conflicted expression and invited, “You can take the desk, or sit on my bed if you want. I don’t mind.”

Since he had already set his books on his desk, Ichigo dropped his own stuff onto the neatly made bed and sank to sit beside them. He made no move to crack one open and resume studying. Instead, he stared at Ishida’s back so hard he apparently felt the pressure of his concentration and turned to catch him at it. He stared back at Ichigo with an expectant quirk of his eyebrows, compelling him to either speak or go about his business.

“Ishida, have you been pissed at me lately?”

“Not particularly, though that is subject to change if you keep acting twitchy.”

“I’m not acting twitchy,” Ichigo sullenly defended. “You’re the one who’s been weird lately.”

Rotating his chair to face him fully, Ishida challenged, “In what way?”

“Well, you…it’s like…” Those blue eyes were boring into him, scrutinizing and perceptive. Ichigo’s shoulders were getting tenser by the second. “I can’t put it into words, okay? All I know is you feel further away every day, since that night in the forest, and it’s really starting to bug me.”

Gods, he couldn’t have sounded more like a child. Ichigo sighed at himself and rubbed at the back of his neck, prickling with embarrassment. He waited for Ishida to scoff and tell him he was imagining things, stop acting like such a whiny brat, it didn’t matter what was bugging him, et cetera. But that’s not what happened.

“I’m shocked you even noticed,” Ishida said with the shadow of a smile on his otherwise solemn face.

Thrilled that he’d chosen not to be evasive, Ichigo asked, “What’s been going on with you? Or is it me?”

“Don’t worry about it, Kurosaki,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Give it a month or two and everything will be normal again.”

“But why isn’t it normal now?” Ichigo pressed. “What did I do, Ishida?”

“It…it’s just better if you don’t know. Trust me.”

“I do trust you. That’s why I _have_ to know.”

He propped an elbow on his desk and cradled his forehead in a palm. “There’s nothing I can say to make you drop this, is there?”

“Nope.”

After a moment, Ishida drew a long breath and straightened to meet his gaze as he began, “Remember that crazy woman we met a couple of weeks ago?” It took Ichigo several seconds to recall, but he did. A cold sense of foreboding slithered down his spine when it all came back to him. Seeing it register across his features, Ishida wryly confirmed, “Turns out she wasn’t crazy after all.”

“A-are you saying…” Ichigo gulped as a bead of sweat slid from his hairline. “Ishida, do you…love me?” He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Ichigo took one look at his face and knew it was true. “Oh, _shit_.”

“Kurosaki, there’s no need to freak out.”

He sprang from the bed with a burst of nervous energy, pacing around the room as he rambled, “Are you kidding? That creepy witch-lady cursed you! And it’s my fault…We’ll fix this, I swear! All we have to do is find that woman and—”

“I’ve already tried. The only thing I found out is she’s not from Karakura. They were only passing through and weren’t in town more than a few days. No one I spoke to knows anything about her. I haven’t been able to track either of them, even using a sophisticated technique Sensei taught me.”

Ichigo paused as he realized Ishida had been dealing with this all on his own for two-plus weeks. Of course he’d run down every possible lead to get the problem resolved without involving Ichigo. It had to be mortifying for him to admit he had feelings for a Shinigami. Hell, Ishida had probably decided to suffer in silence for the rest of his life rather than resort to a confession. ‘Give it a month or two’, he’d said like he would somehow have it all sorted by then. Yeah, right!

“When did you know?”

“I suspected more or less immediately, but I wasn’t sure until we fought. That inane comment you made about us having children gave me such absurd thoughts…I couldn’t deny it any longer.”

“You should have told me,” Ichigo sternly asserted. “I could’ve helped before the trail went cold.”

Frowning for the scolding, Ishida argued, “What could you have done that I couldn’t?”

“I don’t know, but probably something!”

“Yes, because you’re _such_ a skilled problem-solver, aren’t you? No, I had every reason to believe you would only make the situation worse!”

“How could I make it worse?” Ichigo demanded. The way Ishida averted his gaze to scowl at the floor instead had him considering that for a minute. Then he realized, “Just being around me makes it worse for you, doesn’t it? That’s why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Ishida didn’t answer that. He said, “There’s no point in discussing this, Kurosaki. I only told you so you’d stop pestering me. Now you know. End of discussion.”

“Like hell!” Ishida rose from his chair when Ichigo made a bee-line for him to gripe up close. “I’m not letting you shut me out for ‘a month or two’ in the hopes that you’ll somehow be cured. It’s a pipe dream, idiot!”

“What else am I supposed to do?” He had probably intended for it to come out angry like the rest, but Ishida’s voice broke near the end. His expression shifted vulnerable to match. He took a steadying breath and quietly said, “You don’t understand what this feels like. If you did, you wouldn’t be yelling at me for doing everything I can to change it.”

Ichigo had no idea what to say to something like that. Here Ishida was implying his emotions were so strong that he was desperate to be rid of them, and all Ichigo could think was that he _didn’t_ understand. He couldn’t because he’d never been in love. All the songs and sonnets in the world could describe every aspect of it, but to experience love firsthand was another matter entirely. For Ishida to have that forced on him knowing it wasn’t mutual had to be a brand new category of torture. As if he hadn’t been through enough already!

In the end, all Ichigo could say was, “I’m sorry, Ishida.”

“Then take some responsibility and _stay away_ ,” he said without meeting Ichigo’s sincere gaze. “That’s the only way you can help me now.”


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, Ichigo couldn’t leave it like that.

He kept hearing Ishida’s voice in his head saying ‘take some responsibility’ over and over. Every time he thought about Ishida or the fact that he’d been forbidden from even speaking to the man, Ichigo’s guilt increased. There had to be a solution, right? All he had to do was find it.

About three weeks passed before he pretty much gave up. After trying every random idea that popped into his head, Ichigo was at a loss for how to continue. He’d even broken down and explained the whole thing to Urahara! The shop keeper had been no help, except to suggest that even if they found the woman who’d done this to Ishida, she may have refused to reverse it anyway. What kind of psycho would put a love spell on someone and skip town!? The kind who wouldn’t volunteer to repair the damage, that’s who.

Still, Ichigo wasn’t willing to let it go. Ishida was suffering _every day_ because of him. And every day that he didn’t so much as glance in Ichigo’s direction told him the situation wasn’t improving. Otherwise, Ishida would have come to him and said ‘everything’s peachy now, Kurosaki, we can be best buds again’ or something like that.

At least, that’s how the scenario went in Ichigo’s daydream as he sat staring at Ishida’s profile during class. While he watched the oblivious Quincy taking his detailed notes as usual, Ichigo had a minor epiphany: what if there was no way to fix this? What if Ishida really was stuck pining after him for the rest of their lives? They couldn’t be friends anymore, that’s what. Would Ichigo ever be okay with losing their friendship over one spiteful joke?

The answer was a resounding NO. No, he would not be okay with never talking to Ishida again. Even if they moved to different cities—different _countries_ —Ichigo would never stop feeling like the world’s biggest asshole. He’d be consumed with regret, and he’d totally deserve it.

Yet, if there really was no way to undo the love spell, what choice did that leave them?

He groaned into the hand he lifted to cover his face.

Then he dropped his arm to the desk and sat bolt upright in his chair as another, much more profound epiphany struck him. There was one way to potentially end Ishida’s suffering without undoing the spell. Ichigo just wasn’t sure he had the guts to actually do it.

As soon as lecture let out, he rushed to catch up and intercept Ishida in the hall. Just being this close to him after keeping his distance for so long was a kind of relief. Short-lived, seeing as he had to have noticed Ichigo walking beside him, but he gave no sign of acknowledgment.

“Hey.” No reaction. “Ishida, don’t ignore me. This is important.” Still no reaction. “Come on, you know me better than that. I’m not giving up until you hear me out.”

He finally glanced at Ichigo, sighed wearily, and prompted, “What is it?”

“I need to ask you something, but not here. Will you…come to my apartment?”

Although the old Ishida would’ve gladly told him to take a hike, this one gazed into his eyes for a long moment and consented, “All right, Kurosaki.”

“Thanks.”

Ichigo led the way in silence, checking every few minutes to make sure Ishida was actually following him and hadn’t decided to hirenkyaku his way out of this. Not that Ichigo blamed him for being reluctant. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Ishida was going through simply by being in his presence. Just thinking about it made him jittery.

When they got to his apartment, Ichigo kicked off his shoes and went to sit on his futon, which doubled as a sofa during the day. Ishida hesitated, but eventually joined him. His posture was stiff, his expression guarded. It was clear he didn’t want to be there. Ichigo probably only had a handful of minutes before Ishida came up with some excuse to leave. He had to rally his courage fast or risk losing this opportunity forever.

“I’ve been searching for a way to fix my mistake,” Ichigo nervously began.

“Figured you would.”

“I haven’t found anything yet…”

“Knew you wouldn’t.”

“But I have a proposal, in the meantime.” That got Ishida’s attention. He gave Ichigo a wary look and waited for the punchline. “First, I want you to know that I’m really, _really_ sorry about—”

“Get to the point, Kurosaki. I have things to do.”

Clearing his throat, he tried not to fidget too noticeably as he said, “I’ve always thought of you as a skilled fighter and a valuable ally. More importantly, I consider you a very close friend. I’ve got your back, no matter what, Ishida. You know that, right?”

“Why does it sound like one of us is about to die?” Since his mocking tone didn’t seem to dissuade Ichigo in the slightest, he rolled his eyes and requested, “Can we stop with the melodrama? Say what you have to say so I can go home.”

“You told me to take responsibility for what I did to you. I can only think of one way to do that now.” Ishida’s eyes widened in dread as he guessed where Ichigo was going with this. “Will you go out with me?”

Rather than respond like the mature adult that he was, Ishida got up and marched straight for the exit. Ichigo circled around to block him when he grasped the handle. He snarled, “ _Move_.”

“Ishida, please just hold on a second,” he begged, smacking a palm to the door to keep him from escaping. “I know what you’re gonna say and—”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo stubbornly insisted. “You’re gonna say I haven’t thought this through. That I’m being reckless, as usual, and I’ll regret it later.” Ishida released the door handle to cross his arms and frown because it was true. “Well, you’re wrong. I have thought about it and I won’t regret it. However it turns out, trying and failing is still better than never trying at all.”

“Kurosaki, this isn’t—”

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he declared, easing forward as close as he dared. “If this is the only way I can keep you in my life, then…”

He leaned in with every intention of kissing Ishida to show he wasn’t just full of pretty words, but also firm _resolve_.

Ishida held him at bay. “Don’t.” He looked at Ichigo and told him, “Not like this. Not to prove a point.”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding, “that’s fair. Will you at least consider it?”

Running fingers through his hair, Ishida prevaricated, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I’ll take ‘maybe’,” Ichigo allowed with a small smile.

His smile just made Ishida frown harder. “Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to go out with someone who isn’t genuinely interested in me? Why should I be satisfied with a pity-date?”

“It’s not a pity-date. It’s a ‘let’s see where this goes’ date.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Better than an asshole,” he wistfully replied.

Ishida studied him in silent contemplation for so long that Ichigo had to resist the urge to squirm where he stood.

Then he said, “You aren’t the only one who was hoping for an alternative. I still remember what it was like to look at you and not feel…” Ishida closed his eyes and shook his head. “But I suppose those halcyon days are behind us now.”

Ichigo was fully prepared to give Ishida his space for a few days—weeks, if that’s what it took. He was expecting to be ignored in class, shunned at lunch, and ditched after school like he had been since the whole debacle began. So, he didn’t even think of trying to approach Ishida once their professor dismissed them the very next Monday. But he did glance up, incidentally, at the exact moment that Ishida glanced over at him.

Although Ichigo thought to offer a friendly smile, he froze. His stunned expression must have been hilarious, because Ishida was the one who smiled.

It was fleeting and he looked away from Ichigo immediately, as if he hadn’t meant to look in the first place, but the damage was done. Ishida pulled the strap of his bag over his shoulder, took a deep breath, and walked right over to him.

“Accompany me home, Kurosaki.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered, “Sure.”

Ichigo tried not to guess at what was going through Ishida’s head as they walked. He’d never really been able to read the guy on the handful of attempts he had made over the years. It wasn’t that Ishida was a stone-faced sociopath or anything. He just didn’t think on the same level as most people and Ichigo didn’t have enough patience or insight to decode that kind of complexity. Besides, the stylish witch they’d saved had cursed Ishida to think all sorts of things he normally wouldn’t. It probably wasn’t fun for him, and it sort of showed.

Catching Ichigo staring, he asked, “What?”

“Nothing. You just seem…tired.”

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” Ishida quietly admitted as they turned the corner to his street.

“Because of me?”

Giving Ichigo a sideways glare, he quipped, “What do you think?”

“Well, if you’re talking to me, that must mean you made your decision. Right?”

Ishida didn’t correct him but he didn’t reply right away, either. They got to his dad’s house and he held the front door open for Ichigo to go in first. Rather than crash the living area like last time, Ishida led them straight upstairs to his room. Ichigo tried not to read into it. Especially when Ishida unzipped his jacket and tossed it over the rail at the foot of his bed. He sank to sit on the mattress and gave a loose gesture inviting Ichigo to do the same.

“I hate this,” Ishida murmured into the silence between them. “It was bad enough when I thought I liked Inoue-san, but…”

“Now she’s with Tatsuki, in Tokyo.”

“Not the point.”

“I know.” Ichigo watched his friend’s face and found another type of tiredness there. “I’m sorry, Ishida.”

“Stop apologizing. It doesn’t make either of us feel any better.” Meeting Ichigo’s questioning gaze, he added, “Neither will pretending to be what we aren’t.”

“That’s it, huh? You won’t even try?” Ishida set his jaw stubbornly, unaware of how his resolution hurt Ichigo. “So, we’re just not friends anymore? What happens when this town needs you again?”

“I’ll still fight to protect it. Always.”

Hesitating to voice his thoughts, he steeled himself to ask Ishida, “What happens when _I_ need you again?”

He switched his focus to the floor and bitterly claimed, “You’ve never needed me, Kurosaki. I’m the one who thought I needed you. To be the leader. To be the linchpin of it all when everything should have fallen apart. To keep hope alive in spite of what we’d lost. But the war is over now, and all I need from you is distance.”

“That’s not fair, Ishida. I made a stupid mistake and you’re the one who’s suffering for it, but that doesn’t mean you should punish me, too.”

Incredulously, he told Ichigo, “I’m not punishing you!”

“You’re trying to end our friendship! After it took us so long to get this far, you wanna break it off forever. How is that not a punishment?”

“Don’t act as if my friendship means that much to you,” Ishida angrily demanded.

Calm and confident, Ichigo insisted, “I’m telling you it does. Why do you think I’m here, arguing with you instead of studying for our physio exam on Wednesday?”

Shaking his head against sound logic, he said, “Even if that were true, what you are proposing is unacceptable.”

“Why?”

Ishida took off his glasses to rub a hand over his face. Without opening his eyes, he explained, “Because it’s bad enough that I have to catch glimpses of you in class and…the scenarios that flit through my mind are confusing enough. I can’t imagine what horrors I would be forced to endure if we spent alone-time together.”

Skipping right past all the negative undertones of those statements, Ichigo curiously lingered on, “What kinds of ‘scenarios’?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

Ishida put his glasses back on and sighed. “They’re the same kinds of cheesy scenarios you’d read in a shojo manga.”

Ichigo pondered that for a moment. “You mean, like…holding hands or sharing ice cream?” Ishida glanced toward his ceiling, less like rolling his eyes and more like praying to the gods for the strength to withstand this mortifying conversation. “Or snuggling under the same blanket? Exchanging Valentine’s Day chocolates? Borrowing each other’s clothes? Dinner with my family on Christmas? ‘Special requests’ on your birth—”

“ _Yes_ , Kurosaki,” he hissed, cheeks flushing faintly. “Those kinds of scenarios, okay? I try to shut them out but it doesn’t work! Sometimes they’re so distracting that I miss things in lecture and…”

He stopped talking because Ichigo was trying not to laugh but was failing hard. Under the intensity of Ishida’s death glare, he was able to sober somewhat and say, “Sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s just that the thought of someone daydreaming about doing couples-stuff with me is pretty weird.”

Glare sharpening, he practically growled, “How do you think I feel?”

That made Ichigo wonder, “Before the curse, did you ever…?”

“No.” At his dubious look, Ishida proclaimed, “I didn’t have some secret crush on you, if that’s what you’re getting at!”

“A-are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” he yelled. “I respected you as a warrior—maybe even admired you a little—but I never fantasized about being with you like _that_.”

“Like ‘that’?”

There it was. Ichigo couldn’t tell which of them was blushing brighter.

Ignoring their mutual awkwardness, Ishida exasperatedly pressed, “Now, do you understand? I can’t afford to play games with you, Kurosaki, when it takes so much willpower just to keep my head clear around you.”

“Yeah, I get it, I guess.”

“Then, for the last time, my answer is—”

“One week.” Mouth parted mid-word, Ishida blinked at him uncertainly. “Two, three dates, max. After that, if you still think it’s a lost cause, I won’t bring it up again.”

“One week, and you’ll leave it alone for good?”

“That’s what I said.”

He ruminated on it for a solid minute, biting his lip and glancing to and from Ichigo’s serious expression. It seemed to cost him, but he finally agreed, “One week. Just not this week, since we have an exam.”

“Fine. But we can study together, right?”

Ishida gave him this look like he wanted to be annoyed but was too flustered for real anger. “Fine.”

“Starting now?”

Rather than put up a fight about it, he mutely reached for his bag and pulled out a book.

They weren’t dating. At least, that’s not what Ichigo would have called it.

Technically, they were going on dates together, but it was a lot more like hanging out with a friend than anything remotely romantic. Ishida wasn’t acting any differently toward him. None of their interactions resembled anything in a shojo manga. On their first date, all they did was walk around outside on a sunny Sunday afternoon and share stilted conversation. On their second date, Ichigo tried to pay for his meal at a mid-range restaurant but Ishida had been adamant about paying for himself.

By their third date, Ichigo was starting to feel the pressure.

It was Saturday night, his last chance to convince Ishida this arrangement wasn’t entirely pointless. That was why he had chosen his own apartment as their venue. With the home-turf advantage, Ichigo figured he’d have a better shot than just about anywhere else they could have gone.

He was wrong.

“Wanna watch another movie?”

“Not particularly,” Ishida replied as he shrugged on his jacket and zipped it shut.

“Come on, there’s plenty of popcorn left.”

“Kurosaki, it’s late.” He pointed to the wall clock in emphasis and Ichigo tensed to see it was minutes to midnight. The deadline had crept up on him! “It’s already going to take me half an hour to walk home.”

“Then, don’t go home,” he blurted.

Ishida paused. “What?”

“Stay here for the night. There’s plenty of room…on my futon.”

Partway through that proposition, Ichigo realized how it sounded and lost steam until the last three words were barely a mutter. It didn’t help that Ishida just stared at him with this wary look like he really wanted to believe he had heard that wrong.

“No, thank you,” he said carefully, to make sure Ichigo wouldn’t hear it wrong. “That won’t be necessary.”

He wanted to pretend he didn’t understand why Ishida sounded so coldly cordial. But the implication was clear: Ichigo had failed. Per his promise, he was honor-bound to let Ishida avoid him for the rest of their lives. One careless joke—and an even more careless stranger—had cost them five years of friendship. Promise or no, Ichigo couldn’t accept that. He needed more time!

“Let me walk you home, Ishida.”

It wasn’t a question and, miraculously, Ishida didn’t refuse. It was obvious by his expression that he thought the gesture was futile, but he didn’t say a word as Ichigo grabbed his own jacket and stepped into his shoes.

They walked the dark neighborhood streets in silence. Not because there was nothing to say, but because Ichigo couldn’t decide what he _should_ say. There had to be some way to convince Ishida it was worth the fight to maintain their connection. Of all the people in Japan, who could relate better than someone who had been through the same shit-storm as him? He’d still have Chad and Inoue, sure, but only Ichigo knew the burden of power lost and regained. Only Ichigo had felt the call to vengeance on behalf of his betrayed mother. Only Ichigo acknowledged the responsibility to protect their town with everything he had. Only Ichigo embraced the sacrifice required to attain impossible strength.

All of those sentiments he shared with Ishida, and yet it seemed so easy for him to sever that bond with Ichigo rather than encourage it to grow even stronger.

His heart beat sped as Ishida’s house came into view at the edge of the road. This was it. One final chance to change their fate. Ichigo could only think of one thing that might make a difference but… _Not to prove a point_ , Ishida had told him. He respected that, sincerely, but he respected their friendship more.

Besides, Ichigo was curious. And who better to share a first kiss with than someone he trusted with his very soul?

“Well, you’ve walked me home,” Ishida observed as he unlocked the door. “You can go back now.”

“No, I can’t.”

He halted in the process of pushing the door open, leaving it cracked partway, and turned to frown at Ichigo. “You gave me your word,” he sternly reminded. “Time’s up and you did your best, so you can give up with a clear conscience.”

The last part threw him for a second. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Be honest with yourself, Kurosaki,” he said as his brow furrowed in budding anger. “You never wanted to convince me this could work. You wanted to convince yourself it couldn’t.”

“That’s not—”

“Either way, I’m telling you it can’t. Stop making this harder than it has to be and just _let it go_.”

“When are you gonna get it, Ishida? No part of this is easy for me.”

Unfazed by Ichigo’s unease, he callously responded, “Maybe it’s time you learn to accept the consequences of your actions.”

He gritted his teeth against reflexive irritation. Instead, he took a breath and wondered, “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Telling the truth?”

“Acting like an asshole,” Ichigo corrected. “Trying to push me away, make me want to let you go.” Ishida clenched his jaw and looked away from him, which was answer enough. “Yeah, I figured it out a long time ago.”

“What’s that?” he flippantly challenged.

“You’re the king of cruel kindness.”

The accusation pissed him off even more. He took an aggressive step closer to Ichigo as he taunted, “You think I’m being kind to you, Kurosaki? Gods, how stupid are you? I’m trying to get rid of you, once and for all!”

“Only because you love me now.”

“And I fucking hate it!”

The speed and intensity of his reply demolished Ichigo’s self-assurance. He swallowed back a surge of doubt and hesitantly asked, “It…or me?”

“At this point, it doesn’t really matter. I can’t even look at you without my chest getting tight and my stomach squirming. You literally make me feel sick.”

Ichigo rubbed a shaky hand over his mouth as his body reacted similarly to hearing it expressed so harshly. “Shit, Ishida, I…”

“If you understand, then get out of my sight.”

He shoved Ichigo out of the way and slammed the door shut behind him.

His surprised stupor only lasted for a couple of minutes. After that, he walked around the side of the house and glanced up toward the dim light shining through Ishida’s closed window on the second floor. Without pausing to think it through, Ichigo jumped up and latched onto the gutter mounted on the wall. It held fast as he climbed up and grabbed the ledge. Pulling himself up to crouch there, he tapped on the pane and waited. Ishida drew the blinds up and flung the window open, an outraged shout poised on the tip of his tongue.

Ichigo pushed him back before he could start and stepped into Ishida’s bedroom to stand before him. He closed and latched the window to keep Ishida from shoving him back through it.

“I am doing this to prove a point,” Ichigo admitted, moving in close, “but also ‘cause I want to. Got it?”

Ishida gave him a crazy look with just a hint of rage, then made a startled sound when Ichigo kissed him.

As expected, Ishida was not on board with the idea. He knocked Ichigo against the window so hard it was a miracle the glass didn’t shatter. His shoulder blades and the back of his head throbbed from the impact, but he barely winced. He was stunned, all right, but not by pain.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kurosaki?”

“I liked it,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

“What?”

“When I kissed you, I think…Ishida, I’m pretty sure I liked it.”

His eyes narrowed and his tone dipped dubiously as he repeated, “You’re ‘pretty sure’?”

“Well, you only let me do it for a second,” Ichigo defended, then arched an eyebrow suggestively. “Wanna go again?”

Shaking his head, Ishida said, “This is pathetic, even for you.”

“Kiss me.”

“Not happening.”

“Why not?” He didn’t have an excuse. Ichigo could sense victory on the horizon. “Come on, you prude, just kiss me. What are you scared of?”

“Herpes,” he deadpanned, refusing to take the bait.

“You’re my first kiss, idiot.”

Mildly surprised at that, Ishida couldn’t keep from glancing toward Ichigo’s mouth and proving he wanted it, too.

“I wonder why,” he mocked. Ichigo could tell he meant it to be mean, but with the low tone of his voice, it just came across as flirty. “Fine, Kurosaki. I’ll kiss you until you stop me. How does that sound? Then, we’ll see just how far you’re willing to take this game.”

“I’m not play—”

Ishida kissed him tentatively, pausing there to gauge his reaction. When Ichigo didn’t give one, he quit holding back.

He kissed Ichigo the way he’d secretly wanted to ever since the witch had cast her curse. There was pressure and heat, breath and friction. Ishida’s lips were soft, his hair even softer where it grazed his cheek. He made a soft sound in his throat that made Ichigo want to reach for him, but he didn’t. This was his very last chance at getting Ishida to date him; he couldn’t let himself mess it up on a random impulse.

“Still not giving up?” Ishida whispered between them.

Keeping his eyes closed, Ichigo grunted, “Nuh-uh.”

Ishida made a noise that was probably supposed to be aggravated, but it just sounded thoughtful.

He dipped back in for another kiss. Seconds later, his tongue was in Ichigo’s mouth. _Oh, shit_ , he wanted to say because something weird was happening here. He hadn’t really been expecting Ishida to take it this far, but he wasn’t about to back down. In this very unorthodox game of ‘Chicken’ with their entire relationship on the line, he was determined to win.

Yet, the longer they kissed, the more muddled his mind became until all he could focus on were the things Ishida was making him feel. He felt warm all over, inside and out. He felt sleepy and energized at the same time. He felt content, but he yearned for even more than what he already had. He felt restless and adventurous, ready for an epic journey into the unknown. He felt—

Ichigo gasped as Ishida shifted his leg slightly. A slight shift was all it took for them to realize it at the same time.

“You’re _hard_ ,” Ishida hissed, rearing back to confirm the discovery with his own eyes. “Kurosaki…”

He couldn’t tell which of them was more shocked, but Ishida was definitely more excited. He met Ichigo’s gaze for several long, charged beats. Then he pushed his whole body against Ichigo’s and kissed him desperately. It really had been a game to Ishida until that moment, when he finally realized this thing between them was possible. If Ichigo could get hard for him, it didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

“W-wait,” he stammered when Ishida’s hands converged at the front of his jeans.

Dropping his arms to his sides, he looked both hurt and resentful as he accused, “I knew it. You’re—”

“I’m not saying no, just…not yet.” Ichigo could tell he didn’t know whether or not to take that at face value. He needed Ishida to understand he was serious, so he said, “This isn’t a game to me. I’m not playing around with you. If we’re doing this, I wanna do it right. Okay?”

He mulled that over for an unnerving length of time. Eventually, he replied, “I had no idea you were such a hopeless romantic.”

With a nervous chuckle, Ichigo apologized, “Yeah, I guess so. Sorry.”

Leaning in to let their lips lightly graze, Ishida said, “Don’t be,” and reached past to open the window.

Ichigo could take a hint, but he hesitated to leave until he could ask, “Can I sit with you in class tomorrow?”

He smirked. “Go home, Kurosaki.”

It was so weird. So, _so weird_. He had kissed Ishida and liked it enough to…

Ichigo was still reeling from it all several days later. When he had originally proposed the possibility of dating Ishida, he hadn’t given much thought to whether or not he was actually _attracted_ to Ishida. In his mind, it hadn’t mattered. It was a means to an end, the sole way of avoiding a huge loss in his life. And, to be honest, he hadn’t thought it all the way through. Ishida had been half-right about that. Ichigo had never paused to think about what would happen if their dates began evolving to sleep-overs. Now, he couldn’t _stop_ thinking about it.

Was he gay? Bi? Something in between?

Maybe it was just Ishida, he wondered. Ishida, who was sort of pretty and slender and didn’t have a traditionally deep, masculine voice. Ishida, who had arguably girlish hobbies like sewing and cooking and reading in parks under the shade of trees. Or was it less of who than _what_ Ishida was? Fellow spirit warrior and Quincy. The type of person who had rushed in alone to sabotage Yhwach before Ichigo and the others had even realized what calamity would happen down the road. Was Ichigo attracted to his selflessness? His strength? His intellect? Or was it just everything? Everything Ishida was and everything he did?

It was a nice idea. Unlike the idea—the _concern—_ that he was trying to ignore: what if he was attracted to Ishida simply because Ishida was attracted to him?

As much as Ichigo felt conflicted about it, Ishida obviously wanted him. The way he had kissed Ichigo, there was no doubt. That degree of desire aimed at him was flattering, and a little enticing. For the first time in his life, Ichigo realized he liked the thought of someone looking at him in that way. But he didn’t like the thought that his feelings for Ishida were based on the reaction of his ego, or perhaps even his _guilt_. What if he only had the impression of being attracted to Ishida because the alternative was a shame so heavy he couldn’t even face it?

Ichigo shivered and shook himself from such disconcerting thoughts.

Ishida, sitting in the armchair beside his with a laptop balanced over his thighs, noticed and asked, “Are you cold? The library tends to be a bit chilly in the fall, before the university bothers to turn on the heating. Should we move somewhere else?”

“No, I’m fine,” Ichigo assured him. “I don’t really get cold because of—well, you know.”

“Yes,” he agreed, arching one eyebrow, “I can feel the heat of your spirit like a sauna from a meter away.”

Ichigo smirked like a perv, even though Ishida hadn’t said it in a dirty way. His mind was totally stuck in the gutter tonight. He couldn’t even glance at Ishida without imagining things he had no right to imagine.

A few minutes later, he realized he was staring at Ishida’s hands, of all things, when they suddenly stopped typing. Ichigo looked up to see he’d been caught staring. Ishida was asking an awkward question with his expression.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and shifted the stack of books and notepads in his lap. Ichigo felt his cheeks warm, knowing Ishida was staring at him in return.

He heard Ishida’s computer click closed and looked up to watch him slide it into his satchel.

“I’m done for the night,” he announced.

“Okay,” Ichigo said, shuffling through his notes to check his progress. “I should probably—”

“Let me walk you home.”

He stopped shuffling to blink at Ishida in mild surprise. “Uh, sure.”

They packed up their stuff and headed out of the library together. Ichigo tried not to speculate on what would happen once they got to his apartment. Would Ishida try to continue where they had left off in his room last weekend? If he did, should Ichigo let him? Part of him definitely wanted to. But the larger part of him knew it probably wasn’t the best idea. What would happen if they tried to be intimate and Ichigo couldn’t go through with it? Or worse, decided afterward that he couldn’t do it _again_. In that case, he really would lose Ishida forever.

It was too much to think about, too much pressure, too much uncertainty. By the time they got to his doorstep, Ichigo’s stomach was churning with it. He rubbed damp palms on his jeans and fished out his keys, doing his best to hide the way they were shaking a little from nervousness.

Before he could unlock the door, Ishida said, “Goodnight, Kurosaki,” and turned to leave.

“Wait,” Ichigo requested, and Ishida paused. “That’s it?”

As if he were a wise, omniscient being merely playing the part of a normal, clueless human, Ishida knowingly asked, “What were you expecting?”

“Um, I don’t know. Goodbye kiss?”

“Did you want one?”

“Um,” Ichigo dumbly repeated, “I don’t know.”

“Then why bring it up?”

He turned to leave again without waiting for the response, but Ichigo called, “Wait.”

Ishida sighed. “What is it now?”

“Did _you_ want one?”

Shaking his head, he said, “That’s not how this works, Kurosaki. If you want to kiss me, then kiss me. If you don’t want to, then don’t. I can’t be the one to decide the pace of our relationship when you’re the one who’s only half-in.”

He didn’t turn to leave this time. Without being asked, he waited for Ichigo to make a decision. But all he could focus on was the phrase _half-in_. Ishida hadn’t said it spitefully or accusatorily. To him, it was a statement of fact. To Ichigo, it was deeply insulting.

He crossed his arms and argued, “Just because I’m not ready to jump into bed with you doesn’t mean I’m half-in, Ishida. There’s a lot more to this situation than that.”

Equally insulted, he fired back, “You don’t get to tell me how much more there is to this. You have no clue how much more there is.”

“Yeah, I do know. You’re holding back for my sake, right? To keep from scaring me off or whatever.”

“No, you moron, I’m holding back so I don’t go insane!” His fists were death-grip tight around the strap of his messenger bag. “You can’t begin to understand how this feels for me, being with you but at a distance—keeping up this pretense that everything is fine when I can’t even breathe—knowing all the while that you don’t want me like I want you. You only _pity_ me. And I hate you for it.”

“I don’t pity you, asshole, I care about you! I don’t want you to go insane, or suffocate, or any of those things. But if we have sex—”

“I never asked for that!” Ishida shouted in exasperation. “But if you’re so terrified by the very thought, then what is the point to any of this? Don’t you get it, Kurosaki? This psuedo-romance is torturing me! All because you’re too selfish to do what’s right.”

“I am doing what’s right,” he righteously insisted. Then, recognizing the misery in Ishida’s eyes, he faltered, “I-I’m trying, okay? Maybe I’m not full-in right now, but I’m _trying_. I just need some time.”

“Yes, but that time comes at a price that I pay every second we’re together. I’m tired of being the only one paying for your mistake.” Rather than angry, Ishida looked like he was on the verge of tears as he quietly finished, “Nothing is worth this.”

He turned to leave one final time, and Ichigo knew there were no words that would make him wait, but there was one thing he could say that might convince Ishida this was worth it.

Ichigo grabbed a hold of him, dragged him around to trap him against the front door, and kissed him.

Ishida fought, as Ichigo knew he would, but he said, “Stop fighting me, Uryuu, and I’ll stop holding back.”

He froze, astonished, and stared at Ichigo like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard, what was being promised. A tear slid down Ishida’s left cheek as Ichigo leaned in to kiss him again, tenderly. He was sorry for everything he had ever put Ishida through. All the pain and the loss and the struggle. It was Ichigo’s fault, and he was so sorry.

But it was more than guilt. More than a sense of obligation or chivalry. He didn’t just not want Ishida to suffer. He wanted to make Ishida feel better. He also wanted to let Ishida make _him_ feel better, in whichever ways he pleased. He wanted to let Ishida get close, to make him feel things that were both scary and exhilarating. He wanted to let Ishida make him fall in love.

Ichigo did his best to translate everything he was thinking and feeling into their kiss. It was gentle but passionate. Steady, unlike the pace of Ichigo’s heart as they kissed for minutes on end. Ishida didn’t dare intrude with his tongue, so Ichigo ventured a cautious exploration with his own. He felt Ishida’s breathing change then, and how his body went pliant between Ichigo and the door. When he pushed a hand into dark hair, Ishida made a short noise in his throat and touched the side of Ichigo’s waist—but only for an instant, as though reminding himself to be patient and not ask for too much too soon.

That touch reminded Ichigo of what he’d just promised, and everything it encompassed. Without breaking the kiss, he fumbled his key into the lock.

Before he could turn it, Ishida tilted his head aside to say, “Don’t.”

“But—”

“It’s okay. You’ve made your point.” Gazing into his eyes, he smiled slightly and called, “Ichigo.”

Ichigo could feel it. For the first time, he truly felt Ishida’s love for him, like the warmth of sunlight on his skin.

He smiled back, and basked.


	3. Chapter 3

“Pass me that malaria slide, would you?”

“The positive or the negative?”

“Positive.”

Ichigo handed over the slide carefully and watched Ishida fit it onto his microscope’s stage. He squeezed a small drop of immersion oil along the feathered edge of the peripheral smear and switched to high power magnification. While Ishida scanned the slide for elusive trophozoites, Ichigo’s mind wandered outside of lab to the future them, who would practice as doctors what they were working so hard to learn now. His stomach did a weird flip as he considered what their lives might be like in five or ten years, assuming they were still…

“Why do we have to be able to speciate malaria under a scope, anyway? It’s not like either of us is going into pathology.”

“Physicians in internal medicine and surgery need to be familiar with parasitology, too,” Ishida murmured toward his scope. “Just like pediatricians need to be knowledgeable of adult physiology as well as adolescent, and cardiologists need to understand the basics of immunology. It’s all connected. And while we may not have the mental capacity to memorize every detail of what we’re learning, we must strive to know as much as we can.”

Ichigo snorted, even though he knew Ishida was right. “Until our eyes bleed?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Come on, we’ve been at it for hours. Lab ended at four.”

“What time is it now?”

“Almost seven.”

Finally looking up from the eyepieces of his microscope, Ishida blinked owlishly around the lab to confirm they were the only students present and it was dark outside. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Ichigo shrugged. “I figured you’d stop when you got hungry.”

Reminded of its emptiness, Ishida’s stomach abruptly growled. He cleared his throat and tapped his glasses up, trying to look cool instead of sheepish.

Ichigo covered his chuckle with a cough and said, “Let’s go get dinner, on me.”

“Kurosaki, you know how I feel about—”

“Yeah, I know. But we’re boyfriends now, so get over it. You can get the next one.”

Ishida didn’t even try to act mad about it, but he did try to hide his blush at the word ‘boyfriends’. “What makes you think you get to decide that for yourself? I never agreed to use that label.”

“All right,” Ichigo allowed as he packed up the slides into their books and set to cleaning up their work stations. “Which label did you want to use? Lovers? Partners? Soul mates?” Ishida cringed on the last one, so Ichigo ruthlessly continued, “Awkward friends who make out sometimes, ever since a wicked witch cursed one of them to moon after the other without his consent?”

Sighing and rubbing at tired eyes, Ishida darkly grumbled, “Fine, we’ll stick with ‘boyfriends’.”

“Great,” he said with a cheeky smirk. “Well, boyfriend, where do you feel like eating tonight?”

Ishida was still blushing as they went to hang up their lab coats and wash their hands. “I don’t know. You pick.”

“How about that Malaysian place you like?” He gave an affirmative hum that turned into a questioning sound as Ichigo took hold of his hand before he could shut off the water. “Missed a spot,” he said and gently rubbed at a purple smudge on the back edge of Ishida’s palm. “Just some stain from the slide-maker.”

Ichigo ran it under the warm water, massaging away the stain until it disappeared. He looked up to say ‘all gone’ but the words stuck in his throat. Ishida’s attention wasn’t on the pesky smudge, but on Ichigo’s face. The intensity in his stare was a little startling, even though Ichigo was gradually getting used to it. Every so often, he would catch Ishida looking at him like he saw the whole universe somewhere in the depths of Ichigo’s bland brown eyes.

Ishida blinked and lowered his gaze, reaching over to swipe a paper towel and shut off the faucet. He didn’t say anything and his expression was flawlessly neutral, but Ichigo noticed how his hands shook as he finished drying them.

“Malaysian sounds perfect,” Ishida said, and brushed past him to hurriedly shrug on his jacket and grab his bag.

“Let’s get it to go,” he suggested, “and we can watch a movie while we eat.”

Hesitating for only a second or two, Ishida asked, “Your place or mine?”

“You pick.”

Thirty minutes later, they were walking toward Ishida’s family home, each carrying a plastic bag packed with folded paper boxes. Ichigo’s bag was tied and dangling from a wrist, both hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. The cluster of boxes bumped against his hip with each step. Ishida held his bag at his side in his left hand, jostling it as minimally as possible so as not to disturb the contents. A couple of months ago, Ichigo would have rolled his eyes. Now, he found it somehow endearing. It was such an Ishida thing to do, just like how he smoothed his lab coat out every time he hung it up so it wouldn’t wrinkle. Or how he arranged the books in his bag by width so the edges wouldn’t get worn. Or how he would hand-wash all of the dishes that used to be his grandparents’ to keep them nice. Ishida took care of his things because he didn’t take them for granted. He respected and cherished whatever he had in life that gave him joy. Ichigo knew that sentiment extended to him, too. Maybe even before the curse had made him ‘cherish’ Ichigo beyond simple friendship.

“Hey, Ishida?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, at the sinks,” he began, watching Ishida’s profile closely. “Did you want to kiss me?”

Without glancing at Ichigo, he wryly answered, “There’s hardly a time when I don’t want to kiss you.”

He laughed, assuming Ishida was joking, but when he didn’t even crack a smirk, Ichigo asked, “Are you serious?”

“What, did you think it just comes and goes, like a sugar craving?”

“I guess I…never really thought about it.”

Still staring straight ahead, he explained, “When you love someone, you always want to be close to them. Kissing, touching, or even just eye contact. It’s an impulse that never really goes away, but gets stronger and weaker like a radio signal. Ironically, the closer you are, the closer you want to become—to a point, anyway. That impulse is said to wane for a time right after…”

“Sex?” Ichigo offered when he didn’t finish. He saw Ishida’s throat bob on a deliberate swallow. “But you don’t know for sure?”

Finally, he glanced sideways at Ichigo. “Was that the smoothest way you could think of to ask if I’m a virgin?”

“Um. Yeah, I guess it was.”

“No, I don’t know for sure,” Ishida replied, equally smooth. “I’ve never been in love before.”

“What about lust?”

“Are we really having the ‘sexual history’ conversation right now?”

Ichigo shrugged. “Why not?”

“Want to get tested for STIs while we’re at it? We passed an urgent care clinic not too far back.”

He didn’t attempt to answer Ishida’s rhetorical and taunting questions. He was already in danger of getting annoyed with Ichigo as it was. But he did feel it was important to say, “I’ve never been in love or lust with anyone else.”

Ishida gave him a weird look for that confession, and it took him a minute to figure out why. He was pretty sure it was his use of the phrase ‘anyone else’. Ichigo took another minute to do some introspection and figure out why he hadn’t stopped at just ‘anyone’.

Before he could reach a firm conclusion, they reached their destination. Ishida unlocked the door and led them into the sitting room, where they camped out in front of the big flat-screen TV that almost never got any use in the Ishida household. They swapped and shared boxes of food as they watched some gritty drama about a detective trying to take down a crime ring all on his own. The lines were cheesy but the choreography was good. There was even a love scene that got pretty steamy, but it was between a man and a woman. Ichigo knew a little about Ishida’s crush on Inoue, back when they were all still in high school. It had him wondering…

“Ishida?” He quirked an eyebrow to show he was listening without looking away from the screen. “Are you straight?”

Pausing mid-chew, he turned to Ichigo. “You mean, before the curse?”

“Yeah.”

Ishida shook his head. “I thought I was. I had _hoped_ I was, but no. I think I’ve always been more interested in men.”

“Why did you hope to be straight?”

“For the same reason that everyone hopes to be ‘normal’. Being different can be painful and humiliating. It can ruin your life if you’re not careful. And Ryuuken isn’t exactly the accepting type.”

Bristling, Ichigo lowered his box and chopsticks to ask, “Does your dad give you shit about us?”

“He doesn’t know about us, Kurosaki.” Eyeing him thoughtfully, Ishida added, “But if he did, I doubt he would say anything. Just because he won’t approve doesn’t mean he’ll be confrontational about it. Honestly, I don’t think he cares either way. He gave up trying to control my life a long time ago.”

“Good. Better stay that way.”

Ishida smiled, but it was more like he was amused than charmed by Ichigo’s bravado. “What about you? Closer to straight than gay?”

“Hell if I know,” he muttered into the box he lifted to finish.

Sensing his reluctance to discuss it, Ishida didn’t push him.

When they were done with the meal and the movie, they sat and talked for an hour or so about the usual stuff. No more serious discussions about sex or sexual orientation. No talk of love, lust, or curses. It was as refreshing as it was disappointing, because it felt like pretty lies. It felt like they were avoiding the one topic they should have been delving into now, more than ever. Because the way he looked at Ishida was not the same as before. The things Ichigo noticed and thought about were different, too. And he kept thinking about how Ishida’s room was right upstairs. It had a nice, comfy bed in it where they could be close, as close as they wanted to be until…

“Did you hear me, Kurosaki?”

“What? Uh, no. Sorry.”

“I said I’m going to turn in. I want to get some studying done in the morning.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Ichigo objected.

Ishida stood and started collecting boxes to toss or keep, as needed. “Your point?”

“My point is,” he said, heart hammering as he prepared himself for a major step, “maybe it’s okay to sleep in tomorrow and stay up a little later tonight.”

“To do what?”

Rather than wait for the response, Ishida headed for the kitchen. Ichigo followed.

“Well…there’s a reason I asked you all those questions today.”

“Which ones?”

Ichigo intercepted him on the way from the fridge to the trash bin, grasping his arm to say, “Quit playing dumb, Ishida. You know which ones.”

He shook Ichigo’s hold loose and went to toss the empty boxes. From there, he walked into the hall and started up the stairs. Ichigo followed.

“If you’re going to make a proposition, say it clearly,” Ishida told him. “And be specific, or don’t say anything at all.”

At first, Ichigo thought he was being unfair and harsh. But as he thought about it, he realized Ishida was just trying to protect them both from making a stupid mistake. Miscommunication and false assumptions had already caused them so much trouble since all of this had begun. They needed to tread very carefully if they wanted to cross any of the boundaries they had set to get this far intact. Ishida was being cautious out of concern for their relationship.

Ichigo felt respected. He felt _cherished_. And he keenly felt a new aspect of Ishida’s love that he hadn’t even known was there before today.

Once they had made it into his room and shut the door behind them, Ichigo said, “I’m proposing we spend the night together, sleep in the same bed, but leave it at that for tonight.”

Ishida drew a long breath in, held it for a few seconds, and said, “You don’t know what you’re asking of me. To share a bed with you but not be allowed to touch—”

“We can touch, like holding hands or something. And kiss, if you want. But that’s it.”

Ishida dragged a hand through his hair and paced away with a sigh. “Gods, this sounds like a sordid negotiation.”

“It kind of is,” Ichigo agreed with a hint of humor.

“Then why do I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you?”

That surprised him. He said, “Ishida, I wouldn’t suggest it if I hated the idea.”

“I’m not so sure. Your sense of honor runs deep, Kurosaki. Deeper than even you may be aware.”

Ichigo swallowed hard at his ominous tone. “What does that mean?”

“It means you’re the type to throw yourself on your sword for the sake of others. Who’s to say you wouldn’t sacrifice your time, your comfort, your own _body_ for my sake?”

“You think I’m that much of a god damned pushover?”

Not reacting to Ichigo’s outrage, he calmly corrected, “I think you hate to see anyone suffering.”

Shit, he was right. Ishida knew him too well. But Ichigo wasn’t willing to back down and, besides, this wasn’t quite as one-sided as he believed. Not anymore.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he confessed, straightforward and not seductive in the slightest. “About what it might be like to be with you.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Ishida breathed out, wrapping arms around himself like a secondary layer of self-containment. “You’re supposed to be straight, remember?”

“Do you have selective memory loss? Have you forgotten about what happened the last time we were in your room together?”

“Th-that was a fluke,” he argued half-heartedly.

“It wasn’t. Or I would’ve been able to study today instead of getting distracted by imagining your hands roaming all ov—”

“Then you were thinking of someone else!”

“Fuck you, I’m not that kind of asshole,” Ichigo agitatedly returned. “And why the hell are you suddenly so desperate to believe I’m not attracted to you? You seemed pretty damned happy when I got turned on just by kissing you.”

Ishida sort of growled and groaned at the same time, scrubbing hands through his hair like a wild thing. It made him look wilder, too. “Because, Kurosaki.”

“Because _what,_ Ishida?”

“Because if I believe you want me, my self-control might slip. If that happens, and I go too far, you’ll push me away. And if you push me away, I’ll…” He pressed a hand to his chest and looked pained, as if the thought alone threatened to crack his heart in half. Softly, more to himself, he murmured, “Just when I thought it couldn’t feel any worse.” Then he looked sharply at Ichigo and said, “No, I think it’s best if you go home and sleep in your own bed.”

“You want me to go?”

“Of course I don’t want you to go,” Ishida snapped, as if Ichigo was being frustratingly dense on purpose, “but I need—”

“You need me to stay. I know you do. And I want to stay. So, I’m staying.”

Ichigo didn’t know it was possible to look both grateful and annoyed at the same time, but Ishida pulled it off. Then, Ichigo started to pull off his shirt and Ishida just looked panicked.

“Clothes on!” He rushed over to yank Ichigo’s shirt back down. “Kurosaki, keep your clothes on!”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them, idiot! Socks, too.” Ichigo sighed in exasperation but didn’t complain, and Ishida sighed in relief. “Don’t give me that look. Every part of you is sexy.”

“Even my feet?”

Unabashed, Ishida confirmed, “Even those.”

Ichigo laughed. “You have a thing for my feet and I’ve got a thing for your hands. Are we weirdos, or what?”

“Oh, I’ve got a thing for your hands, too.” Ishida’s gaze leisurely wandered all the way down Ichigo’s body, and back up. He licked his lips and admitted, “I’ve got a thing for your…everything.”

Ishida’s fingers were still twisted in the hem of Ichigo’s shirt. As though becoming aware of this at the same moment, Ishida slowly uncurled them from the cotton and left them to rest against Ichigo’s sides for a second, then reluctantly stepped back to break contact.

“See? We can do this,” he told Ishida, who still seemed unsure. “And I won’t push you away because you won’t give me a reason to. I trust you.”

“That makes one of us.” Ichigo gave him a _look_ , and Ishida caved. “All right. We can try.”

They took turns in the bathroom to do night-time things. Ishida gave him an extra toothbrush without being asked, and Ichigo tried not to assume it was to spare himself from bad morning breath, but he knew Ishida too well.

As Ichigo flicked off the lights and approached the bed, he started a conversation about nothing in particular. Ishida didn’t add much, but he also didn’t seem like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, which was the point of Ichigo’s blathering. They got under the covers, lying on their backs and separated by almost a full arm’s length of space, and still Ichigo talked. He went on and on about some scene in the movie he had enjoyed, until Ishida yawned from sheer boredom. That’s when Ichigo knew his plan was working.

Then, “Kurosaki,” he said and Ichigo fell silent. “Would you be trying this hard to love me back if you weren’t the reason I fell in love in the first place?”

“W-what kind of question is that, all of a sudden?”

“Just answer it. Please.”

“I have no idea, Ishida. Why does it even matter? You said you never had a crush on me before, so—”

“‘If the potential is already there.’ That’s what the woman, Yuuko-san, said. She could inspire anyone to fall in love, if the potential was already there. That means she sensed the potential in at least one of us. I’ve been wondering all along if that only applied to me.”

Ichigo stared up at the ceiling and thought. If there was no guilt motivating him to salvage their friendship any way he could—if it was just Ishida’s confession instead of Ichigo’s mistake—would he still go to such extreme lengths to make it right between them? Or would he have simply told Ishida, ‘I’m sorry,’ and moved on with his life? Would Ichigo have let him distance himself from his unrequited crush until they were barely acquaintances anymore?

They were heavy questions, but Ichigo already knew the answers.

“No,” he said, and turned his head to look Ishida in the eyes, “I don’t think it only applies to you. I know you believe I’m just stringing you along for the sake of my conscience, but the truth is…” Ichigo paused to reach for his hand and intertwine their fingers. “I like you, Ishida. Maybe it’s not love, not yet. But I really think it could be, some day. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Ishida stared at him for a lingering moment. He brought their linked hands up and touched his forehead against the back of Ichigo’s hand. The warmth of his whisper tickled as he warned, “Careful, Kurosaki: false hope hurts worse than none.”

“Look at me.” Ishida sort of nuzzled against Ichigo’s hand and shook his head at the same time. He was trying to keep emotional distance while clinging to whatever physical comfort he could. Ichigo said, “Uryuu, look at me,” and he did.

His eyes were glossy in the darkness, and slatted as though anticipating pain. Ichigo kissed him. Not to prove a point, or even to make him feel better. Just because he wanted to.

He felt desire, a slow burn radiating outward from his core, drawn to the heat of Ishida’s skin wherever they touched. Ichigo wanted to touch more of him, but he felt conflicted. Ishida was being so careful. Shouldn’t he be careful, too?

“Ichigo,” he broke the kiss to say, “I love you.” His tone was mournful, his breathing pinched. “And I hate you.”

He kissed Ishida again and told him, “I know,” but he didn’t apologize. To repeat that he was sorry for making Ishida fall in love with him…

It wouldn’t have been the truth anymore.

They were studying on the couch in Ichigo’s apartment, laughing about something one of their professors had said that afternoon, when he realized he loved making Ishida laugh. His whole face changed when he smiled. He lost himself somewhere in the pleasure of it, completely overturning his usual seriousness. He looked younger, too, like a weight was lifted not just from his heart and mind, but from his actual body. Anytime Ichigo managed to make him laugh or smile, it felt like a compliment. And he never resisted the impulse to try and keep it going with another joke or witty comment, as long as possible.

His impersonation of their professor was slightly inaccurate but comical enough that Ishida had to dab at the corners of his eyes, moist with mirth. Ichigo couldn’t help staring at the flush on his cheeks and the curve of his lips. He thought, not for the first time, that Ishida was really beautiful when he wasn’t scowling.

“I think we should have sex,” he said, and Ishida’s smile vanished.

“What?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Ichigo decisively confirmed, “I’m ready.”

“Well, that makes one of us.”

“What? I thought you—”

“For the last time, I never said anything about us having sex, Kurosaki. You’re the one who keeps bringing it up.”

“But that night in your room, you were totally gonna molest me,” he pointed out, recalling how Ishida’s hands had gripped at the waistband of his jeans upon discovering his hard-on. “If I hadn’t told you to wait—”

“Then I would have stopped on my own anyway. I was testing you, remember? To see how far you’d let me go. But I wasn’t actually planning to ‘molest you,’ as you put it.” He pushed his books onto the coffee table and turned sideways on the cushion to face Ichigo fully. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time and I may have taken it too far, but I’m not some sex-obsessed pervert just drooling for the chance to get you naked.”

His confusion doubled, though he didn’t doubt Ishida’s word. “Are you saying you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“I’m saying it wouldn’t be just ‘sex’ for me. It would be more like…” He paused, looking uncomfortable as he forced himself to finish, “Making love. As lame as that sounds.”

“It’s not lame,” Ichigo disagreed. “I get it.”

“Do you?”

“I think so. When it happens, you want it to be less about getting off and more about being intimate. Right?”

Ishida seemed surprised to hear him articulate it so well. “Yes, that’s the gist of it.”

“I’m okay with that. We can wait. Or,” Ichigo tentatively suggested, “we could still be ‘intimate’ without having full-on sex. Couldn’t we? I mean, there are plenty of ways to do things without going all the way. What if we’re kissing and then we sort of start…you know. Doing stuff.”

“I may need you to define ‘stuff’ in this context,” Ishida said, tone flat and expression skeptical.

“Um, for example touching, or…rubbing.”

“Rubbing what?”

There was a minute tick, a split-second glimpse behind the facade, and Ichigo cried, “Are you fucking with me right now!?” Ishida laughed, and he was so beautiful that Ichigo couldn’t stay mad, but he grumbled, “Prick.”

Absolutely unapologetic, he was still chuckling at Ichigo’s expense as he accused, “You suck at dirty-talk.”

“Oh, if you wanted me to talk dirty, you should’ve just said so.”

He shook his head. “Don’t. If you do, I may die laughing.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “All right, smartass. But seriously, what do you think?”

“About the rubbing?”

“Ishida,” he complained, but it came out more whiny than scolding. “Come on.”

“On what?”

It took a second for Ichigo to get it. When he did, his mouth fell open on its own because Ishida had just made a dirty joke, and looked very smug about it after the fact. Ichigo decided, then and there, that this cheeky bastard was no male maiden to be protected. If he could make jokes like that and tease the crap out of Ichigo, the kid-gloves were coming off!

“I think I understand,” he said, putting his own books on the table beside Ishida’s. “You want me to be specific, right? That’s the rule. Well, in that case…” Ichigo leaned in close, maintaining eye contact, and said, “I’m gonna kiss you breathless, push you down, climb on top, and unzip your pants. Then,” he continued even when Ishida took a breath to speak, “I’m gonna touch your dick until you come on your own stomach, and let you do the same to me, if you want. How does all that sound?”

Ichigo half-expected him to whip out some clever retort and shut down his whole agenda, but Ishida just stared at him like he was finally taking this seriously. He swallowed, and drew a deep breath.

Then, he said, “It sounds like you’ve been watching too much porn,” and Ichigo wilted where he sat.

“I give up,” he announced against the backrest cushions. Ishida just laughed.

“You’re trying too hard, Kurosaki. These things should happen more naturally. If you try to force this type of progression, it puts pressure on both of us.”

“Yeah, but if we don’t talk about it first, how am I supposed to know what you’d be cool with doing?”

“Because I’ll tell you if it’s too soon,” Ishida said soberly but gently. “It’s fine to go with your instincts, as long as you also respect my boundaries.”

“Okay.” Ichigo straightened from his sullen slouch. “Sounds fair.”

Ishida nodded as though they had struck an accord. But he wondered, “What brought all this on? How did you go from joking about our professor to…?”

He let the rest go unsaid since it was obvious, and awkward to repeat. Ichigo made it awkward anyway by confessing, “I think your smile is sexy. I never noticed before ‘cause you don’t usually do it around me.”

“Well,” Ishida said quietly, tucking his hair behind and ear for an excuse to look away, “I suppose you give me less reason to frown these days.”

“Yeah?” Ichigo reached out to intercept the hand that had just touched his hair. Ishida let him interlace their fingers and met his gaze as he asked, “Any tips for how I can keep that trend going?”

He started to smile, but bit it back to reply, “The stray attempt at dirty talk now and then should suffice.”

“Oh, so you think that’s funny, huh?”

“Hilarious,” Ishida agreed.

“Sure it didn’t get you hot?”

“Was that your goal?” He clucked his tongue and tilted his head curiously. “I never would have guessed.”

He grinned at his own joke, widely enough to show teeth, and Ichigo couldn’t stand it anymore. Ishida huffed a surprised laugh as he was kissed, but he didn’t hesitate to kiss Ichigo back. He didn’t draw the line and pull away this time, either. He let Ichigo kiss him as long as he wanted to because he finally felt relaxed enough to let down his guard. Ishida wasn’t worried about going too far or being pushed away. Ichigo needed to understand why, but he didn’t want to ask and make Ishida self-conscious about it. That would only ruin the progress they had made.

“You should stay over tonight,” Ichigo offered, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “I’ll make dinner and we can keep studying. Or watch a movie if we get burnt out on books. Did you know there’s a sequel to that detective flick?”

“Kurosaki,” he said hesitantly, and Ichigo felt his stomach drop in disappointment. “If you’re on some sort of mission to de-flower me—”

“I’m not!” Ichigo squawked, much more embarrassed than offended. “I just want to spend time with you, Ishida.”

“You basically just invited me to ‘Netflix and chill’ overnight,” he blandly pointed out, “after having a discussion about sex, followed by a light make-out session. What am I supposed to think?”

Feeling his face heat, Ichigo mumbled, “Well, when you say it like that…”

Ishida bit his lip and said, “Don’t blush. It’s cute.”

They stared at each other. Ichigo said, “I feel like we’re in a shojo manga.”

“Me, too.”

They laughed together and it broke the tension. He told Ishida, “No ulterior motives, I swear. Just quality time with my boyfriend. I’ll sleep on the couch and everything.”

“I can’t sleep on your futon, with or without you.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer right away. He looked thoughtful, eyes lowering to where their hands were still connected. The pad of his thumb rubbed up and down the outside of Ichigo’s. It felt nice.

“Did you know that, in humans, our sense of smell is the only sense that doesn’t get filtered through the thalamus before being processed by our neocortex? Scents go straight to our emotion and memory center of the brain, known as the limbic system, which is why we often have such strong affiliations between scents and specific memories. The connection is instantaneous, and often more powerful than any other sense-memory we can create.”

That was pretty interesting, but Ichigo couldn’t figure out why he had brought that up out of nowhere. He said, “No, I didn’t know that.”

Ishida nodded and met his gaze to explain, “The other night, when we slept in my bed, I could turn my nose toward the pillow or the blanket and it was a little easier to breathe. But the next night, your scent was still there, mixed in with mine, and I felt—”

His breath caught, like his lungs were threatening to seize up just from thinking about it. He withdrew his hand from Ichigo’s and held it to his diaphragm instead, as if the muscles needed coaxing to relax.

“That sounds…uncomfortable,” Ichigo tried. He also tried not to dwell on how cold his palm felt without Ishida’s against it.

“It is.” His eyes shimmered and he blinked quickly, as if he were holding back tears. “It’s also one of the best feelings I’ve ever experienced. Profound. Bottomless. Overwhelming. It’s the same feeling I get when you call my name. You should understand by now how you have that kind of power over me, Kurosaki.”

The power that witch _gave him_ over Ishida, more accurately. Suddenly, it wasn’t just Ichigo’s hand that felt cold.

“I know.”

“And I know you won’t abuse it,” he said with certainty, “but it still makes me feel vulnerable. So, if I’m lying beside you and all I can smell _is you_ , I’ll be at my weakest. I won’t be able to think clearly. I won’t be able to say ‘no’ to either you or my own impulses. And we’ll both have regrets in the morning.”

Ichigo drew a slow breath and let it out even slower.

“Okay,” he said, and cleared his throat since his voice sounded creaky. “No sleep-overs at my place. Got it.”

Retrieving his books to signal an end to their deeply personal conversation, Ishida muttered, “And don’t get me started on what your reiryoku does to me.”

Ichigo’s mind ran rampant with questions and possibilities, but he didn’t say a single word.


	4. Chapter 4

The rain was a constant patter all around them. No thunder or lightning interrupted the smooth serenity of a summer storm. Just warm drops tapping out a gentle lullaby. The town was hushed and calm like a child laid down to sleep. No cars were on the roads. No houses were alight with wakefulness. Dim golden lights shimmered with rainbow halos around street lamps, but everywhere else was in darkness.

There had been a battle earlier. He and Ishida took down a handful of Hollow without issue. Now, they waited, keeping vigil by formal request of Seireitei. It was rare that they called on Ichigo, and even rarer to enlist Ishida along with him. They’d been expecting a larger incursion. Obviously, they didn’t always get the calculations right. Still, Ichigo held his post on the off-chance that another wave might tear through the black skies twice in one night. Soggy shihakusho be damned.

He looked at Ishida, sitting beside him on the wide ledge of some fancy office building’s rooftop. One leg was dangling over the edge, the other propped on poured concrete. He was resting his head on an arm braced by his bent knee. With his hair soaked and sticking to the side of his face, it looked more like spilled ink than ever. His gaze was aimed at the street seventeen stories below. Ichigo squinted to see what had caught his interest and barely made out the shape of a damp tabby, picking at a busted trash bag in the alley.

“You wanna rescue it, don’t you?”

Without taking his eyes from the distant cat, Ishida said, “If I rescued every stray I spotted on patrol, I’d have to convert Ryuuken’s precious mansion into an animal shelter.”

“I’m sure he’d go for that,” Ichigo joked, feeling victorious to see him smirk.

“Oh, absolutely. The man who never let me adopt a pet would welcome a whole menagerie in a heartbeat.”

They snickered together, picturing Ishida’s dad’s face if his son suddenly came home with an armful of wet dogs and cats.

A few minutes later, Ichigo complained, “Ugh, it’s muggy as hell out here.”

He struggled gracelessly out of his sodden gi and breathed a relieved sigh when he was down to just the light white yukata. Then he caught Ishida staring at his chest, showing between and beneath the currently translucent silk. Ichigo belatedly realized this was totally an unintentional ‘wet t-shirt’ moment. He could even make out the darker hue of his nipples under the thin layer.

Before Ichigo could say anything about the staring, Ishida caught himself and turned his head away. There was already a pink tinge to his heated skin, but it brightened in embarrassment for the lapse in his self-control. And maybe another emotion, too.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“Nah,” Ichigo said, shaking his head, “it was my bad.”

“I think you’ve got the right idea, though,” he told Ichigo as he unbuckled and peeled off his jacket. He was wearing his standard high-collared Quincy tunic underneath, except the summer version was sleeveless. The impressive definition of his archer’s-arms was on full display. “It is unbearably humid tonight.”

“Damn right it is. Don’t forget the collar.” Ishida hesitated for a second, then drew down the zipper of his tunic to the center of his sternum. It was rare to see so much of his throat. Ichigo wasn’t sure he’d seen his collar bone even once. “Do you ever wear v-necks?”

He shook his head. “Shirts with deep necklines tend to show the top of my scar.”

Now that he mentioned it, Ichigo could make out a faint outline of something right above the zipper. “Can I see it?”

Again, Ishida hesitated, but he pulled the tab all the way down to part the front of his tunic. Ichigo didn’t check out his scar right away. He pretended to, while secretly checking out Ishida’s bare torso. It didn’t feel taboo, since Ishida didn’t have breasts, but it did feel like a special treat. He had cute nipples, too. Ichigo had no clue what qualified nipples as ‘cute,’ but Ishida definitely qualified.

“It’s pretty faint, I know, but if anyone saw it—”

“They’d ask awkward questions,” Ichigo finished for him. “I get it. Sucks, though, ‘cause it actually looks pretty cool.”

The nearest source of light was further than he would have liked. He had to lean closer to make out the detail in the star-shaped silhouette. Unthinkingly, he reached out to open the tunic wider and barely heard the way Ishida’s breath hitched. Ichigo glanced up in time to see how he bit his lip, briefly. Was this turning him on? _Of course it is_ , he thought and fought to smother a smirk. They were practically half-naked, sitting close together on a rainy summer night. This was literally the stuff of wet dreams.

To test his theory, Ichigo raised a hand to touch his fingertips to skin. The instant they made contact, Ishida sucked in a startled breath and flinched away from his touch.

“Don’t,” he said a bit breathlessly.

“Sorry,” Ichigo apologized, feeling confused and guilty. “Is your scar still tender?”

“No.” Ishida was breathing harder. Ichigo could see it in the motion of his chest and hear it in his voice as he reluctantly explained, “Remember how I mentioned your reiryoku has an effect on me?”

“Yeah.” Although he mostly remembered Ishida purposely not telling him what that effect was.

“Well, it’s several times stronger when you’re in Shinigami form, which makes touching…dangerous.”

Warily, Ichigo asked, “Dangerous ‘good,’ or dangerous ‘bad?’”

Ishida swallowed, making his Adam’s apple bob noticeably. It was obvious he didn’t really want to spill. Ichigo wasn’t going to pressure him or let him off the hook. Ishida would have to decide whether to share the secret or keep it to himself.

But he flipped it back around on Ichigo by nervously saying, “Touch me and see for yourself.”

It was his turn to hesitate. Was Ishida warning him off or inviting him in? Ichigo couldn’t tell. He got the feeling Ishida’s ambiguity was intentional. Even after all the progress they’d made learning to understand each other better, he was still trying so hard to stand on neutral ground. He was still afraid of pushing too fast and scaring Ichigo off. Better to keep the ball in his court and play the long game, than go for a goal and lose everything.

Ishida had told him to let things happen naturally. It felt very natural to reach out and slowly brush his drenched bangs behind an ear. Ichigo saw his eyes flutter behind rain-spotted lenses, shaking loose the little droplets that clung to his lashes. He heard the subdued sound Ishida made involuntarily. Ichigo carried the motion down the side of Ishida’s neck and noticed the gooseflesh he raised along the way. His fingertips glided lower, pausing on the top spoke of that faint star. Ishida’s chest was hot and flushed, responsive all the way down to the nipples that hardened as Ichigo watched in wonder.

_He_ was doing this, he suddenly realized. His reiryoku was doing this to Ishida, making his heart race and his lungs work. Ichigo was mesmerized by the reactions he could tease out of Ishida with nothing more than a delicate touch. Ichigo traced his centerline to the shallow rise and fall of his stomach and drew a ticklish circle around his navel, winning another low sound from him. Ishida licked his lips and left them parted to pant lightly. Ichigo played right above the hem of his slacks, nudging lower by millimeters. Ishida’s grip tightened around the fabric of his open tunic.

“ _Kurosaki_ ,” he whispered urgently. Warning or invitation? Ichigo still couldn’t tell.

Before he could stop himself, he asked, “Could you come like this? Just fingertips?”

“Yes,” Ishida answered with certainty. The tops of his cheeks were bright pink. His eyes were low-lidded. He was already so far gone, it was like thirty minutes of foreplay condensed into three.

Ichigo bit his lip against a groan for how hot that was. He huskily confessed, “I really wanna kiss you right now.”

Ishida snapped. He pounced on Ichigo, pinning him to the ledge and kissing him wildly. While they kissed, Ishida tugged aside the flaps of Ichigo’s yukata to expose more flesh. He could feel the two pebbled points on Ishida’s chest pressing against him. A slight shift and he could feel the outline of Ishida’s hard dick against his thigh. He could feel Ishida’s tongue against his, dipping and twining and stroking. He could feel Ishida’s body rocking so slowly, up and down, providing a kind of cock massage between their hips. It felt so good his mind was going fuzzy at the edges.

Three minutes of making out like that, and Ichigo had already caught up with him. They were gasping between kisses, blood pulsing with sweltering pleasure. He was getting high on it, on Ishida and his ruthless desire for Ichigo. He liked being held down and attacked by Ishida. He loved the idea of being needed by him that much.

“Ichigo,” he called, sweet and desperate. “Come with me?”

His hands squeezed whatever parts of Ishida he held, blunt nails pressing into skin. He didn’t have the breath for more than one word. He chose, “ _Uryuu_ ,” because he was already there.

Ichigo’s lungs seized when he came, but Ishida’s loosed a long moan. The sound of it did something to Ichigo’s insides. It felt like a punch to the gut and a second orgasm all at once. Knowing he had been the cause of a sound like that was almost as satisfying as the process of causing it. He kissed Ishida and caressed the small of his back, reveling in the accomplishment.

Breaking the kiss with a quiet laugh, he raised his head to gaze down at Ichigo. His smile was aglow with affection, with _love_. But he didn’t say it. He didn’t need to.

“You brought this on yourself, you know,” Ishida teased, still smiling. “Told you touching me was dangerous.”

Ichigo grinned. “If I wanna touch even more of you, does that make me a daredevil?” He kissed Ishida again. And again. And one more time. “How much reiryoku will it take to get you naked?”

He sat up and shifted to straddle Ichigo’s hips. “However much it might take, I’m sure you can afford it.”

“Yeah?” When he made to sit up, too, Ishida pushed him back down and held him there by the shoulders. “You like me on my back?”

“I like you at my mercy.”

A shiver shot down his spine. Ichigo wasn’t sure how to respond, but hearing that from Ishida made him want to submit. He admitted, “I think I like being at your mercy.”

His mouth opened in surprise, then curved in triumph.

The next night they were back on patrol.

Seireitei had fed them some vague spiel about how there was interference with their scans, making it difficult to determine Hollow threat levels. Until they found the source of the problem, they wanted extra security on-site. He’d been sure Ishida would refuse. A one-time favor was bad enough, but a to-be-determined situation was asking too much. To Ichigo’s shock, however, he hadn’t complained once.

Yet more shocking was the fact that they hadn’t been acting awkward around each other. Despite having just had their very first sexual encounter, they seemed to be handling it well. Their conversations were normal, unhindered. Ishida still smiled for him now and then. He’d even let Ichigo kiss him—lightly and with only their lips touching—when they met up for patrol. If anything, it was Ichigo who was a tad out of sorts. He couldn’t stop wondering…

“Hey, Ishida?” he began as they strolled up the river bank. “Do you have any regrets about last night?”

Watching Ichigo with a thoughtful expression, he asked, “Should I?”

“No. I don’t know.” Ichigo tucked his hands into the folds of his hakama, trying to appear more casual than he felt. “I’ve been thinking about how you said you wanted intimacy, not just sex.”

“Last night didn’t feel intimate to you?”

There was no shadow on his face or melancholy in his tone that suggested it, but Ichigo had a strange suspicion Ishida might be feeling a little insecure. Had he been waiting all day to hear Ichigo say it was a mistake? Or that it meant nothing to him beyond physical pleasure? He caught Ishida’s sleeve, being careful not to make skin contact, and drew them to a stop by the river’s edge. The gentle whispers of water sounded too loud in the silence while Ichigo waited for him to look up.

“It felt intimate,” he stated sincerely. “I don’t regret it.”

“Then, neither do I.”

Again, nothing about Ishida’s demeanor hinted at any hidden emotions, but there was this weird tightness in Ichigo’s chest telling him there was more to it than he was saying. He knew what Ishida was truly hoping for. What he’d _been_ hoping for since day one of being cursed.

“I like you, Uryuu.”

There was a flicker behind his eyes. Nothing more. But it solidified Ichigo’s belief that his instincts were right.

“I know,” Ishida said and slipped his sleeve from Ichigo’s loose grasp.

“Then why are you pulling away from me?”

Ishida didn’t pretend to misinterpret him. He didn’t lie to make Ichigo drop it. Straightforward and fearless, Ishida said, “Because you’re taking too long.”

“You can’t put a deadline on falling in love with someone.”

“No, but I _can_ decide where I draw the line on waiting for you.”

Ishida started walking again. Ichigo followed, resisting the impulse to grab his jacket and make him face this. He kept trying to run away every time they got a little closer. For Ishida, a relationship milestone was like a warning bell. Ichigo didn’t understand it. Why did it seem like the deeper his feelings grew, the deeper Ishida sank into despair?

“How many times are you gonna make me chase after you?” Ichigo demanded, doing exactly that.

Irritably, Ishida retorted over his shoulder, “I’m not making you do anything.”

“You’re making me crazy, damn it!” Ishida ignored him. He hated being ignored. Ichigo quit resisting his impulses and grabbed Ishida’s jacket to make him stop running from this. “If that woman, Yuriko—”

“Yuuko,” he corrected automatically. He shook off Ichigo’s hold but remained where he stood.

“If the witch who cursed you was here right now, would you ask her to undo it all? Take away your feelings for me?”

Cold and unyielding, Ishida said, “In a heartbeat.”

“Even if it meant I’d still have feelings for you? Would you just leave me like this? Confused and wanting—”

“Exactly, Kurosaki: wanting, not needing.” He clenched his hand into a fist as anger sharpened his features. “I’ve never needed anyone. Not since my mother died. You made the choice to walk this path knowing where it could lead, but I never did. I never wanted to need anyone ever again.”

“You’re still blaming me,” Ichigo realized with dismay. “Do you still hate me, too?”

“I resent you,” he admitted, “but I don’t hate you. I _can’t_ hate you because I know you didn’t mean for this to happen. But knowing you didn’t mean it doesn’t make it less painful.”

“Is that why you’ve been so guarded from the start? To protect yourself from the pain I’m causing you?” It hurt Ichigo to ask that. It hurt more when Ishida didn’t deny it. “Did you ever even want me to fall in love with you? Or have you just been waiting for heartbreak this whole time?”

The anger dissolved as Ichigo watched. He could see Ishida fighting it, but his anger was quickly being superseded by sorrow. When he spoke, his voice was strained and his breaths were short. He said, “What did you expect from me? I’m not naive enough to believe in happy endings, Kurosaki. Even if I could believe, I would never forget that we were forced into this. Our relationship would only be built on lies and desperation. I would always wonder whether you genuinely fell for me, or just _sacrificed_ yourself like you always do.”

“This isn’t self-sacrifice,” Ichigo told him. “I want you in my life. I’ve always wanted you in my life, Uryuu, since the day you saved it.”

He reached for Ishida’s hand, to touch the scars he’d endured for Ichigo’s sake, but he withdrew into himself like a shell. “Not like this,” he said sadly.

From the corner of his eye, Ichigo thought he saw fog skimming darkly over the river but he paid it no mind. Humid air and a swift drop in temperature could create a wall of fog in a blink. He started to reply, intent on convincing Ishida not to give up on them yet, but paused to notice his expression change. His attention left Ichigo in lieu of something behind him.

He turned his head to see what was so distracting that it would derail their extremely emotional discussion. At first, he saw nothing but that encroaching fog. Then, he thought he could make out the silhouette of a person within it. Ishida moved to stand at his side, eyeing the figure warily. As far as Hollow entrances went, this would be a first. But their warrior’s instincts urged them to stay vigilant just in case.

Ishida gasped. “ _It’s her_.”

They stared in astonishment as the very witch who had caused them so much trouble suddenly appeared before them.

With fog billowing cinematically and the long train of her layered, elaborate kimono trailing elegantly behind her, she seemed an otherworldly apparition in the stark streets of their mundane town. She came to stand a respectable distance across from them but did not bow.

“Good evening, Shinigami-san, Quincy-san,” she greeted with a familiar smile. Ichigo wanted to throttle her on sight, but he was still too stunned to move. “I hope you don’t mind me stopping by to check in. I was in the area and thought of you two. How have things been going since last we met?”

“Horrible,” he blurted as fury overtook shock.

“Oh, no,” Yuuko-san cooed with sympathy. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you?” Ishida stepped forward in determination, which made Ichigo very nervous. “Would you be willing to help us change it?”

“That would depend on the method of change you had in mind.”

“Reverse your spell,” he immediately proposed, oblivious to the way Ichigo cringed like he’d been shot. “Please, Yuuko-san. Undo the damage you caused.”

“No matter how short the time, the ties that bind will not disappear.”

Ishida narrowed his eyes at her. “What does that mean?”

Her lips quirked in enigmatic amusement. “Even enlightenment comes at a price. I will enlighten you for the gift of your names in return. To offer a name is to offer a piece of your soul.”

Ichigo didn’t like the sound of that at all. He started to object, but Ishida stated, “Ishida Uryuu.”

Reluctantly, Ichigo shared, “Kurosaki Ichigo.”

It felt like some sort of arcane contract had been signed. Yuuko nodded once to each of them and said, “What is meant by ‘the ties that bind’ relates to your fate. Everything in this world is fated. When and where you met. The circumstances of how your friendship was forged. The obstacles you have faced and the battles you have won. Everything up to this point and everything that will follow.”

“Are you saying we were meant to meet you?” Ichigo skeptically asked. “That it was Ishida’s fate to be cursed into loving me?”

The breeze shifted, rustling the woman’s curtain of straight black hair. It was almost as long as she was tall and the effect was ethereal. He almost worried that she was about to cast another spell, but she just stood there watching them. The amusement was gone, replaced with a motherly compassion.

“I was not the catalyst of Ishida-kun’s love for you.” Before they could call bullshit, Yuuko continued, “All I did was lift the shroud of shame under which he had buried his love. So deep even he could not perceive its true nature.” Raising an upturned hand into the air and tilting her face toward the stars, she said, “When I took the shame away, it cleared the skies for that love to flourish like a sunflower, but I did not force it to grow. Even I cannot wield such power.”

“I-I wasn’t ashamed,” Ishida weakly claimed. “I just…”

Gently, Ichigo reminded, “You told me, ‘being different can be humiliating. It can ruin your life.’”

“Nevertheless, I had accepted that about myself.” With an air of resignation, he amended, “Mostly.”

“You never wanted to need anyone.” Ishida lowered his gaze, saying nothing. Ichigo added, “You don’t believe in happy endings.”

Ishida struggled for the words to convince them it wasn’t true. He bit his lip. Then, he sighed and shut his eyes.

He looked at Yuuko pleadingly, a lost soul reaching for the light. “These feelings are entirely mine? Truly?”

“They are yours entirely, as you had never allowed yourself to feel them before.”

It was good news. Fantastic news, actually. Ichigo was relieved and happy to hear it. So, why did Ishida seem so devastated?

Because he assumed they were still _unreciprocated_ , Ichigo realized on his own after a moment of deep concentration.

“Could you take them away?”

“Ishida,” he objected.

Ignoring Ichigo completely, he begged Yuuko, “Could you cover them up again? I don’t care how, just…Please. I can’t keep constantly longing for someone who will never feel the same for me. It is the worst pain I’ve ever known.”

Ichigo’s heart juddered achingly in his chest. He wanted to apologize, even though Yuuko said he’d done nothing wrong. He wanted to hold Ishida in his arms and comfort him. He wanted to kiss away the agony he saw glimmering in Ishida’s eyes.

Yuuko moved closer and touched a palm to Ishida’s cheek. “You have suffered because of my gift. For that, I am sorry.” Her gaze shifted to Ichigo. She asked him, “Did you never wonder why it was that you were not affected by it?”

_I can inspire anyone to fall in love, if the potential is already there._

Ichigo had wondered. Ishida had wondered, too. But only one of them had harbored the answer all along.

“I wasn’t affected because,” he told Ishida, fumbling at first but gaining confidence as he gradually understood, “I already loved you.” It felt like finally solving a riddle after mulling it over for weeks. He knew, as soon as he’d said it aloud, that it was right. “I’d been waiting for that moment when my feelings would change and suddenly I’d just _know_ , you know?” He shrugged, feeling like an idiot for the way Ishida was gawking at him in utter bewilderment. “I figured they call it ‘love-struck’ for a reason.”

“No,” denied Ishida. It seemed to be all he could manage.

“Yes?” Ichigo thought about it, double-checking himself. “Definitely yes.”

“No,” he helplessly repeated.

“Yes,” confirmed Yuuko. Her smile had returned, complete with an affectionate warmth. “The only part of Kurosaki-kun’s love for you that I influenced was the…physical aspect. Just a little.”

There was an awkward ripple between Ishida and him. Yuuko appeared unruffled after the admission that she’d basically given Ichigo the hots for his friend to help spark the transition of their relationship from platonic to romantic. Was she implying he had a low libido? After what they’d done last night, Ichigo was dubious.

“Will it, um, wear off?” he felt it was important to know.

“Hmm,” she hummed, glancing between them assessingly. “If anything, I predict the opposite.” Ishida blushed. Ichigo shifted self-consciously. Cheerfully, she assured, “Ah, but don’t worry! I wasn’t the catalyst for your desire, either. I only increased your _awareness_ of it.”

Ichigo thought of how their third date had ended, making out in Ishida’s bedroom, and his serendipitous reaction to their newfound intimacy. If it hadn’t happened that way, their relationship might have stood stagnant from then on. Or ended altogether. Yuuko’s influence on each of them had opened the door, but they had been the ones to walk through it and keep walking even when they stumbled. She hadn’t forced them to love each other. She had just made it easier for them to notice.

He was smiling before he thought to. Ishida still looked embarrassed, but his eyes kept flicking to Ichigo like he wanted to say or do something he shouldn’t. Not in mixed company.

“Thank you, Yuuko-san,” Ichigo said with feeling. “I think we’ll be okay now.”

“Yes,” she replied, nodding knowingly, “you will.”

They watched her turn and gracefully glide away into the fog once more, as if she had been nothing more than a shared dream.

Minutes after Yuuko had vanished, they got a message from Seireitei giving them the all-clear to go home. Whatever anomaly had been interfering with their spirit activity readings was gone. It wasn’t terribly funny, but Ichigo felt so light-hearted after the evening’s revelations that he had laughed aloud. Ishida had smiled wanly and asked to walk him home.

Once Ichigo was back in his body, he sat beside Ishida on the couch. It was the same couch where they had spent hours studying and talking together well before they’d ever started kissing there, too. They stared forward at the TV’s dark screen. Their hazy reflections stared back.

“So,” he told Ishida’s reflection, “I love you.” Ichigo turned his head to look at the man himself. “I guess I’ve loved you for a while.” When Ishida said nothing, he looked at the floor. “That sort of thing should be obvious, huh? I’m sorry, Uryuu. I totally missed it.”

“I missed it, too.” Joining Ichigo in his floor-gazing, he corrected, “No. I didn’t want to see it.”

“You thought I was straight.”

“I thought you liked Arisawa-san.”

“Now she’s with Inoue in Tokyo,” he joked, mirroring their previous conversation on the subject.

Cracking a smirk against his will, Ishida returned, “Still not the point.”

“The point is,” Ichigo said, scooting closer to him, “we know what we feel for each other is real. It’s not a spell or a curse or a trick. It’s just us, being stupid in love and sharing our lives…if that’s still what you want.”

Finally, they looked directly at each other.

And Ishida kissed him.


End file.
